(THIS IS A FICTIONAL POEM)

I'm angry and I'm about to have a fit.
I'm going to divorce my wife if she serves anymore grits.
She thinks I won't do anything because she has sass.
But if I get anymore grits, I'll put my foot up her ass.
When I married her, I was nothing but a stupid chump.
If she serves grits again, I'll have to get my stomach pumped.
She serves grits for breakfast, lunch and even for dinner.
When I look at my marriage certificate, I know I'm no winner.
I do not want anymore grits and I don't care if I'm rash.
If I get grits just once more, I'll throw her out with the trash.