you were broken like a vase that fell,
there you lay scattered and broken,
but still too proud for your shelf.
he did his “best” to mend your shattered fault lines of cracked porcelain but it was a waste of his time..
most of your life, you were nothing but his trophy wife, and you just can’t take it anymore.
not too long after you exchanged your vows,
he snuck off late at night, sleeping around, but like a good wife should, you just looked the other way.
“baby, i swear it’s not what you think. you just need to calm down, why don’t you make another drink?”
a fifth of vodka, and tomato juice, add a dash of depression, now it’s “honey, what’s the worst you can do?”