I saw this poem in the daily index and found it very enjoyable, funny and true. It's author is Aisliann Niall and was originally posted for Imbolc in Celtia. (posted with permission)

"It would be right wrong to fail to offer praise
To her without whom I'd see no days
And as the days approach when I shall wed
I must admit that sometimes I wish her dead.

Scorn me not, for I love my mother so
But it doesn't change the fact, you all should know
That as I plan, my troubles ever grow.
And the more I work, the more things seem to slow.

For whatever flowers that I choose
I am destined ever to lose
For it seems, with regard to me
My mother has no choice but to disagree.

It's embedded in a mother's mind
To never believe her child could ever find
Something good enough for her child
So she obsesses till the child's mind runs wild.

But I feel no sorrow over my great toil
For I know one day I'll turn into such a boil
And when the transformation's complete
I, sadly, will be guilty of a similar feat.

For someday, when I've children of my own
I can torment them, even when they've grown
And then rest shall come to my poor brain
For I'll have made them all go insane!

So, to my mother, my future and my past
I humbly raise this overflowing glass
For, after all, I must admit I see
Your insanity came to you from raising me."