Expectations

20^th Oct, 2017

They think I long to be praised
‘Cause that’s the way I’ve been raised.
With little hope, surrounded by pride,
To be a good girl, and a better bride.
To listen, to nod,
Not to speak, not to probe.
To serve my husband and think him God.

Dreams unrealized, shouldn’t even exist.
The girl wants to be taken serious? Call the exorcist!
The Devil’s got her, burn the witch!
Cursed be the spawn of Satan,
Purge her with bleach!

With fear gnawing and clawing my heart
My body obediently plays its part.
No matter the craving, no matter my wish,
My words should be only: “Here’s your dish.”

Now you might scold me, or pity my state,
Some may be enraged, others call it fate.
But none of that matters, since I am just a bait…