Curse
I wish you death and despair,
ill health and no hair;
I pray that this hex
withers even your sex,
and breaks you beyond repair.
I wish you death and despair,
ill health and no hair;
I pray that this hex
withers even your sex,
and breaks you beyond repair.
The storm and the song
carry me along
through war and strife,
this tumultuous life,
to where I belong.
All of the noise
from the girls and boys
makes me crawl in my skin;
their damnable din
challenges my poise.
This little person
will be depending on me?
How will I ever…?
I will find a way
to make you pay
for what you did
to my kid –
you will rue the day.
Why aren’t you bitter
from loving her?
She never loved you –
her feelings were not true.
I’m not that lover.
It’s been so long
since I heard this song.
It takes me back to a place,
reminds me of a face,
and a time we got along.
Now the end of the year
has drawn very near
tomorrow’s a new chance
for hope and romance –
what is there to fear?
We’re driving every which way
on Christmas eve, Christmas day
to see siblings, cousins, aunts,
and everyone’s grandparents
for holiday parties.
As I wonder in the snow,
where I’m going, I don’t know,
I can’t find the trail
amid the wind and the hail
threatening to lay me low.