I smashed all the windows of your car

And set all your clothes on fire

But I am still not content

Nor does this remedy my broken heart.

But nonetheless, you are going to pay

For everything you have done.

Stupid me for thinking that you were a man

and different

When you are nothing but a cheater, cheater,

pumpkin eater;

A player, player from the Himalayas.

You said it was going to be only me

That it was solely the three of us

But you, with your philandering self

had to go and get a fouth person involved.

Didn’t you see it was already crowded?

Or with you it’s: ‘The more, the merrier?’

I served a purpose in your life.

To strengthen your failing marriage.

So how dare you cheat on me? On us?

The audacity?! The insolence!

Didn’t your father instill that knowledge that says:

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?”

Although in your case it’s going to be women.

You will not go unscathed.

I am coming for you and everything you have.

With the pictures of you and your new lover at my

disposal

I hope and pray your wife takes you to the cleaners

As soon as she opens that mailbox.