Alas, the terrible dilemma of a trophy wife
Where you just want to shop, and get on with your life
Where the rich dude you married, for jewels and his money
Won't go away, but instead wants you to act like his honey
Doesn't he get it, you don't want to be seen?!
Holding his hand, near his bright orange sheen?
Alas, how were you to know when you put on his ring
It would be such a drag, this trophy wife thing
ps. not a personal poem, just commentary ;-)