Can't lose my name, it's on all my stationary! (wclimits) wrote in badpoetryinc,
Can't lose my name, it's on all my stationary!

The Men Who Made My Mother. (Go easy on me, it was a tough one to put to words.)

Men have such a strange effect
On the opposite sex.
Like the superiority syndrome of decades ago,
Is still secretly implanted
In even the most liberated minds
Of the female
I want to impress
With my finesse.
I want to bleed dry
And bend over backwards.
I will defend and
Depend upon your
Opinions of myself,
And I will do it all,
I will bleed and plead and bend,
And I will do it all,
So you will love me.

My mother is a beautiful woman,
She is strong, and bold
And brave,
Like all mothers are.
I had never seen her buckle
Under the weight of bills,
Under the pressures of success,
Under the speculative eyes of judgment.
I had never seen her waver
In the wake of my teenage terror,
And if that weren’t cause enough
To revere her,
She could do it all, and still have dinner
On the table
By six.
My mother is the strongest, bravest,
Most beautiful woman in the world,
Except when it comes
To men.
Fathers, brothers, boyfriends, sons,
And god forbid the married ones,
My mother was molded by the
Foolish fingers of
Dead-beats, drug abusers,
Alcoholics, Woman beaters,
And the occasional
Mildly psychotic, co-dependent
Of other women.
And somehow, over time,
This array of the stronger sex,
Have convinced an intelligent,
And beautiful woman,
That she is nothing more
Than what they make of her.
I am a beautiful woman,
Genetically molded in my mothers image.
And sometimes I forget,
That the men who made my mother,
Do not have to be
The men who make
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