Old Poetry - Late 1994

My mother's a horrible bitch,
as a person she's worse than a witch.
If I try to say ever
something important, never
does she listen, but scream out of pitch.

My father is almost as bad,
and most people would call him mad.
He comes home and screams
then he drinks, sleeps and dreams.
Do you wonder why I hate my dad?

My brother is just an arsehole,
who's uglier than cockroach or mole.
He farts and he stinks even more than he blinks,
and he slurps, burps and gulps from the bowl.

My family, as you can see,
is why I am such a bad me.
If you were related
to people you hated,
you'd go crazy as anyone can be!