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.