A Merlot bottle in one hand—
A baby in another
With wine I seek to comprehend:
How should I be a mother?
I didn’t study for this job
Have no qualification
And yet one day this fatty blob
Squirmed out in elation
A smoke to calm the poor child
Seems like a good idea
A puzzle game left it beguiled—
I bought it from IKEA
What make-up do all babies use?
Do they like leek or radish?
I’d ask my toddler what it’d choose
But I fear it speaks Spanish
And when they grow up—oh my god!
They end up like their parent
I guess that since I am so odd
My failure is inherent
This work was requested on Fiverr.
Don’t even think about ordering your own poem there.