A match made in Hell,
Right from the start,
Like a failed piece of art,
Thrown away,
On a clearance cart.
A match made in Hell,
But it was on sale,
And both were buying,
So blinded by a bargain,
Neither could tell,
That the other was lying.
A match made in Hell,
It started out well,
But it’ll never work,
Not when both parties,
Are so berserk.
A match made in Hell,
They say you never can tell,
But others knew,
How it would end,
Long before it was through.
A match made in Hell,
And they can’t change that,
No matter how much,
They bitch and yell.
A match made in Hell,
Doomed before,
It ever fell,
No way to win,
Despite the fun it’s sometimes been.
A match made in Hell,
What was supposed to be bliss,
Feels more like,
Being locked in a cell.
A match made in Hell,
No one wanted to sell,
But when it’s over it’s over,
It’ll never turn back,
Into a sunny field of clover.
A match made in Hell,
Regardless of being the ball’s belle,
Evidently,
That one wasn’t worth having,
And had to be sent packing.
A match made in Hell,
Left ugly and split,
Chewed up and spit out,
Like old and broken sea shells,
Washed ashore,
In the ocean’s swells.
A match made in Hell,
Where nothing happy dwells,
They thought it would taste sweet,
Like caramel,
Turns out it’s rotten,
And it’d be best forgotten.
Original Poems And Short Stories 