They can’t raise their hats

I have made friends with my  excessive anxiety

And welcomed my split off  cold rage.

But my errant inner voices,

Don’l  approve of my choices.

They are refusing to accept  or engage.

I know it’s not normal to marry

And most of us now deviate.

But my mind has its ailments

For which I take payments

In order to feel second rate.

They once told us we were too humble

Then we became over- proud

We never felt  right

As we preyed in the night.

For with compulsions we’re over endowed

I decided to give up religion

And God really thought I was right.

He don’t like the Vatican

Took off his hat again.

His head was a powerful site.

I put my husband in the cupboard

And got into bed with a plate.

It was rather hard

And should have been barred

As  we were unfit for our fate.

A man can be a  useful  accessory

If you go into the town

They are  made of money

And are  frequently funny

If f left in the sun they ‘re more brown.

But treat men with awe if you meet one

They suffer from low self esteem

They can’t raise their hats

Nor  make butter pats.

And they  tweet about what might have been.