The hands that itched to please me,
Now twitch to endlessly torture me.
When did instruments of appreciation
Become accoutrements of oppression?
Is marriage a misadventure of aggression?
The lips that sung me sweet praises,
Now salute me with smutty abuses.
When did honey buzzing bee hives
Become pus oozing human caves?
Is that our fate we poor housewives?
The husband that fought to feed me,
Now weaves ways daily to famish me.
When did the Eden-God-made abettors
Become the egoistic callous exploiters?
Is that the new normal for caretakers?
The marital bed that cuddled me at night,
Now keeps me awake in worry and fright.
When did the garden of love and happiness
Become a battlefield of woes and agonies?
Is that the fruit of these holy unions?
I was sworn to a pact of a monarchy,
I was born in a society of patriarchy,
But, but a woman can also woo a man
And, and a woman can also sue a man.
Lastly but not least: See you in Court;
There we shall part not as we met.
©Abi Maria Amaru.
- Author: Abi (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: March 30th, 2023 02:21
- Comment from author about the poem: The fate of second-hand feelings.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 9
Comments1
"About Me" states you are male: poem seems to be from a female POV...well done!!! Photo amusing....too....
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