and if I move or turn my face away,
the game is up; he’ll know the way I feel,
and he will likely sulk or strop all day.
polite pretence will once more morph to “real.”

his list of crimes grows bigger with each tick.
so too his list of deeds both good and brave.
tick tock: the clock seems frozen; I feel sick.
I want to run away, my soul to save.

but I must stay for sake of my three boys
and my sweet girl; they need my mother-love.
I travel and I dream and pray for joys.
oh! lift me high above all this – above!

these words sprung forth inside my head
whilst tupping in this sordid bed.




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