The House of Hormones

I live in the house of hormones

Where the yells and threats cut fast and loose,

Where doors are slammed and the noise rattles your bones.

I live in the house of spot cream

Where the bathroom door can be locked for hours,

And neither the body nor room get a regular clean.

I live amongst the hairy scary,

Where bedrooms smell and hoodies sulk,

And all those who enter, should be wary.

I live outside in the car,

Where I wait and debate as to how loud I should yell,

At the slothful teen who, from the locker has not moved far.

I live in the lair of the purse looter,

Where tight shoes and subs come all too soon.

I’d check my bank balance, but I can’t get near the computer.

I live with fully paid up members of the awkward squad,

Where they think nothing of telling you to pipe down

And smile, whilst trying to get their hands on your wad.

I live in the land of the confused,

Where one minute they are in love

And the next they are feeling dreadfully used.

I live in the world of the worried,

Where targets are set and exams must be sat

And all of their childhood must be hurried.

I live with my partner, who’s buying a shed,

He can’t stand the rage and see it’s a phase

Or the fact that you are a long time dead.

I live in an ordinary family

With mess and a lack of parenting finesse

And children who fill me with glee.