Start at her feet
Placed delicately,
one in front.
Her lead, passively,
bent at the knee.
Her support, shadowing her figure.
In line, minimizing.
The curve of her calf,
accentuating,
The blossom of her hips.
Carefully supporting her Voluptuous…
Her face, a blank space.
Her voice the void.
She calls my name
All I hear is my claim.
You are mine
Woman.
Start at her place.
Small 1500 sq ft, 8ft tall,
Hands wrinkled and worn.
Dish rags rang but warm.
Her mind torn,
Her love scorned,
Her passion,
a decoration
to paint a pretty personality, while she waits.
For a
Man.
Not hers
A Man, all his own.
Making us prone
Doctors prescribe submission
A motherly vision
The will to live, is a Grave we dig
As women
About the Creator
AAshes
Learn, Create, Burn to escape.
Step into a dimension with no intention, simply a void of mindless devotion.
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