fauxcroft

There was a tempestuous shrew I once knew,

My she was a heady brew,

As passionate as she was angry,

As feisty as she was fiery,

She demanded so much

And screamed so as to get it,

And never was there a moment

When she would regret,

It had to be her way

Or no way at all,

But that tempestuous shrew

Was heading for a fall

And try as I might to alert her to this

She would not listen,

For she was too fixated,

On getting her way

It was all about her,

Some people accused her of being disturbed

And so they dragged her way,

And pumped her full of drugs

Now she sits in a corner

Her knees she hugs,

Rocking backward and forward

Muttering to no one,

Sitting in psychiatric ward

Deaf, blind and dumb,

To all, and to anyone

Who happens to come near

She is now living a life in paranoid fear.