A Perfect Storm
“Life isn’t fair,” is what I said,
This morning they wouldn’t get out of bed.
“I don’t make the rules,” I tried to reason,
But this was teenage high-school treason.
“How about breakfast?” I offered a smile,
While they protested, rank and file.
“Fine,” I said, my optimism waning,
“Crap!” they exclaimed – “Is it (bleepin’) raining?
“Just go, you’ll see, it won’t be so bad,”
They shot me with hate rays for making them mad.
They never once waned in their grouchy teen ways,
I know they’ll be pleasant one of these days.
As they walked out the door,
I said Sayonara,
I put sugar in my tea,
and the 80’s