Disclaimer: This poem is in no way meant to reflect anyone on this site. It was written two years ago, far before I joined Mingle. Thank-you.

An Hode to the Stepfords.

The perfect house, with a perfect yard.
Rot of the soul.
The perfect kids and the perfect car.
Rot of the soul.
The perfect pie for the perfect church.
Rot of the soul.
A perfect yard, from a perfect perch.
Rot of the soul.
Martha is goddess, Money is God.
Rot of the soul.
Heaven help us if we're at all odd.
Rot of the soul.
Thought, what's that? TV shows us the way.
Rot of the soul.
Celebrities role model every day.
Rot of the soul.
Last book I read Oprah did reccomend.
Rot of the soul.
Too bad I couldn't even make it halfway to the end.
Rot of the soul.
I must have the newest, the latest, the greatest.
Rot of the soul.
If not, the world would have a right to hate us.
Rot of the soul.
My kids aren't exactly in bubble wrap,
Rot of the soul.
but it's very hard to let them off my lap.
Rot of the soul.
After all, what if they get a booboo?
Rot of the soul.
Then they won't look great in shorts or a tutu.
Rot of the soul.
I'd watch the news but it's just so boring.
Rot of the soul.
What with all that depressing world warring.
Rot of the soul.
After all, it'll never touch me.
Rot of the soul.
Maybe my grandkids, but hey, I won't see!
Rot of the soul.
So long as my image is picture perfect,
Rot of the soul.
and my beautiful mask is a glovelike fit,
Rot of the soul.
and my kids are quaint, never fuss or fight,
Rot of the soul.
and I never think of my twilight,
Rot of the soul.
I shall be quite happy in my bubblelike life,
Rot of the soul.
and never have to plunge the knife.
Rot.
Of.
The.
Soul.

Wow! This is most excellent!