Paadise Regained Story Poem
My deafness is hysterical.
Psychosomatic so they say
They may well be right old pal.
I had to find some legal way.
to escape her whining voice
She’s Catholic and won’t divorce
That leaves me very little choice
for I abhor the use of force.
She nags and moans from morn till night
Her venom never satisfied.
No single thing I do is right.
I have considered suicide
She thinks the doctor’s on her side
and he will find a cure for me.
That leaves me only homicide
but I must plan it carefully.
It must look like an accident
when I am nowhere near the scene.
so that I seem quite innocent.
Some public place I can be seen.
Or better still my therapist.
His evidence impeccable,
he will adamantly insist.
That I could not be culpable.
The deed is done the bitch is dead.
My method I will not reveal.
So I am free no longer wed
I can’t express the joy I feel.
My therapist will clearly state
that I was with him when she died
and that he suspects suicide.
Because of her tense mental state.
His word of course the court respects.
He is an expert after all.
I’m free and clear no one suspects
I engineered her fatal fall.
Her voice is stilled she can’t complain.
She died swiftly and painlessly.
The quack was right I did regain
my hearing rather suddenly.
He claims all credit for success
ascribes it to his therapy
and as he was my star witness.
What can I do except agree?
I have not changed my attitude
though I can hear as well as you
I still enjoy the quietude.
Which I quite often choose to do.