by Nick Gisburne
She needs a ticket to another place,
But every card she carries will not work.
Sedated, safe at home, her husband’s face,
Though dreaming, twitches, briefly, in a smirk.
She syphoned all his savings from the bank,
The price, the prize, the payoff she deserves.
Immobilised by all the drugs he drank,
In minutes he was stripped of his reserves.
Bewildered, as her cards are all declined,
Her perfect plans for paradise collapse.
Before they wed, his money men designed
A labyrinth of seamless legal traps.
Perceiving she is penniless, too late,
She finds the highest price is always hate.
