The joy in marrying you,

All I held dear, a coup to you.

A son, hidden grandsons I never knew,

A case of a face and a mind turned askew.

You took the years and made them cost,

Your warmth turned sunshine to frost.

Lies, lies… “phoney tears,” the judge saw through them,

Manufactured strangers out of kith and ken.

I kept the faith when none could see,

Believing love would set him free.

But faith was mocked, and love abused,

Each lie precisely fused.

Now silence fills the space between,

Lives lost, swept in Lethe’s stream.

Your family’s proud tradition,

Decorating Disdain without condition.