A Marmite Sandwich

Maggie always made me feel small,
she was always on the defense,
could never talk calmly, just screamed.

She was the thistle in my side,
the carbuncle on my bottom,
the maggot in my crisp, Cox's apple.

I'd watch her bully her way through a day,
though I marveled at her techniques
as I could never match them and it rankled.

Next time, next time, I'd know just how to answer,
give as good as I got, tell her off,
but the next time I was as silly as the first.

Maggie always made me feel bad,
made me feel dull, ridiculous and stupid.
She was the Marmite sandwich

that was supposed to be jam
that your nasty aunt made you swallow
as it's rude to spit out.

poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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