Marry in haste, live with the waste
of countless years, picking up the pieces of your realised fears.
That perfect groom with his preening shined suit
Is a facade, who will hurry to boot
You out for a younger model
After months of suffering and molly coddle.
You will emerge from the aisle, heart broken and veil torn,
Just a few years after you solemnly sworn
You’d be together for all time,
As you happily listened to each wedding bell chime.
For those bells will toll at a later date
When your love has poisoned and turned to hate.