File for divorce, my love.
Take the house and more.
Do not worry about the kids, my love.
It’s their hearts that will be sore.
Scream angry words of hate, my love.
The children cannot hear.
At least that’s what you think, my love.
It’s losing you they fear.
Jump in the car and leave, my love.
Pack your things and go.
The children are too young, you say.
To realize what they know.
What pain I see beyond the smiles.
They hide it well, it’s true.
Look into their eyes, my love.
No sparkle–it left with you.

01.01.1999