Retrospect

I just want to rant and rave.
Anger burns me, I'm enslaved.
Tormenting torturing treacherous bitch:
why did I marry that damned old witch?

(I'll never know.)

I wish that she had ridden a broom
instead of my cock, sealing my doom.
She cackled frightfully with glee,
invoked a charm, ensnaring me.

(I should have known.)

Love? I think not; more a farce.
I was blind, was such an arse.
More a lover's spell she cast,
I swore that it would be my last.

(That's one oath already blown.)

I howl at the moon, languid and full,
a wolf that cries alone at night.
I'm lonely, bitter, and sorrowful
at my wrecked past seen in hindsight.

(These words the spiteful seeds I've sown.)