Too much labour

 Feminine rage boils within me. 

I live in a world of inequity. 

Where what dictates control is between one's legs. 

a god damned fallacy. 

If given a moment to think, 

the realization; it is not an act of love to do this much work. 

It is a societal expectation. 

This is all he has known, he is not being a jerk. 

It's a man's world. 

The cards are always in his favour. 

My roles are every day and will never fade. 

Mother, maid, psychiatrist, nurse... emotional labour. 

Do what you are told, sit up straight, and adhere to your role. 

Don't rock the boat, do not make waves. 

Be the virgin, the Madonna, and the wife. 

Submit, give him the sex he craves. 

We believe that our relationship will save us.

from the hardships, we will endure. 

Avoiding the chase puts on a different shackle

One with emotional damage as a cure. 

We indoctrinate our young to believe this is normal

The emotional torture from the place of honour, 

and becoming complicit in our daughters' fate. 

as we tell her to submit when he climbs up on her. 

This is not the world I wish to live in, 

This is a world that needs to change. 

We are relegated to the sex of our dystopia

fills me with feminine rage. 








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