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Marriage! – poem

I’m not married, but here’s a poem about marriage


To the bride and groom, here’s to yous,

enjoy your life together as one single entity.

Your tax rates will be lower and your bodies will turn to mold.

This poem, so far, doesn’t rhyme or roll on the tongue,

it’s uncomfortable in the mouth, much like your new wife’s lasagna.

She’s not Italian, why does she even try to make such a culture defining dish?

Marriage is not all it’s not cracked up to be,

it’s boring and hard and long and hard!

No one makes an effort anymore,

I could dress in a potato sack and she’d lie that I look gorgeous.

To be quite honest, she’s let herself go too,

I’m not allowed to say so, out of fear. Feary fear, of the fearful kind.

We try to do things together – these self-enforced activities never go well.

In the end, the only thing we do together, is argue over the furniture, the curtains, the money in the bank, or something else that doesn’t matter in the long term.

I don’t know how much more of this I can take, I may have to end it.

The marriage I mean, not my life, which certainly can get better, the life I mean, not the marriage.

I can for sure see why married peopled cheat on their “beloved” wives or husbands,

it must be exciting to fuck someone else on the side, when society says you’re not supposed to.

For the men, finding some tidy, young lady who takes proper care of herself to adore and spend the night with.

For the ladies, procuring a muscular, fit man to “stick it in” every weekend must be so thrilling.

Marriage is a lost cause, a mistake, not a good thing.

In this day and age, two people can’t love each other wholly,

they’re too busy tinkering with their Facebooks and Twitters to devote the bulk of their time talking to the other!

Do not get married, take it from me! It’s a life not fit for a King!

King Henry the eighth one said it best, “Thou hast no time for thy married life, get me a pig’s face for breakfast, NOW”!



There you go. A poem about marriage from a non-married fellow. Ciao.  






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