A Mum’s Lament

Is he taking the piss?!

When I come home from a long day at work,

Tired and hungry, something definitely hurts,

I enter the hallway, sighing with bliss,

Take a quick look around, is he taking the piss!

First is the boots lying there in the floor,

Coincidently, directly in front of the door,

As I go flying with a sharp scream of “Shit!”

He must have thought I was in need of a trip.

Next is the living room, a bin site, no less,

Where he clearly had felt the need to undress.

Smelly socks in the sofa, the rest thrown without trying,

By the time that I’m through, I think I’ll be crying.

Then comes the kitchen, a whirlwinds gone through,

I ask myself what the fuck was he trying to do!

There’s crumbs in the kettle, the cheese is past saving,

As I foam at the mouth, I think I look like I’m raving!

The last straw was the phone call, which delivered me a list,

Of all the virtual homework, lessons and projects he had missed.

Though til now I was sympathetic, met excuses with a kiss,

As I burst into his bedroom I screeched,

“ARE YOU TAKING THE FUCKING PISS?!”