Poetry by Me
Female Chores
She's a broomstick girl in a broomstick world,
sweeping the minds of many.
Her dust pan ways will collect the days
of happiness - if any.
What girl wouldn't give to choose to live
the model life she leads?
To give up the desires that hunger inspires,
to have no essential needs.
Her mirror only reflects the many defects
that put her mind through hell.
When the toilet flushes, all her blood rushes -
but she will never tell.
She's a broomstick girl in a broomstick world,
envied by all of her friends.
When she's finally pleased, she will fall to her knees
accepting her life as it ends.
TreadmillsFive women, in a row,
Synchronized,
Labeled by numbers.
Their legs, they are in motion,
Although they are taking them
Nowhere.
Their mouths, they are in motion,
Although they refuse
To nourish.
Their eyes, they stare
At the television set in the front.
Their faces, they cringe,
As they see what they are not.
Their pride, it's torn,
They cry themselves to sleep that night,
Yet they return the day after.
Six women, in a row,
Synchronized,
labeled by numbers,
Running from life.
