That may have worked,
When you were young,
Always fighting against Grandfather,
Battling against society,
Or his laws,
Now it seems that your own,
Nightmares are bestowed upon me,
This is your advice,
To turn my head and obey,
Just as you had but with,
A bell tightened around your neck,
It's noose squeezing your lifeless words,
Now you ask, no demand,
For me to follow in those,
Dragged footsteps,
Suffering the punishment,
Of being female,
As you turn away,
Ready to fetch something,
For your master,
I ask,
Is everything better?


Silence 3/6/11

© 2011 by knownkonvict

All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of knownkonvict.
(This is a published piece…I suggest you do not plagiarize any part of this poem or my lawyer will be forced to take legal action.)