Divorce

When cupid has fled the marriage is dead.

The signals are read; it's all done and said.

There's chill in the bed and passion un-fed.

Where feet fear to tread, no peace to embed.

All feelings mislead, with anger seen red.

For faith, not a shred; distrust runs the thread.

No vision ahead, but aimless instead.

What's left is but dread, a burden to shed.

All hope is now bled; the weight is like lead.

Divorce widespread; statistics have said.