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The Art Of Feminine wiles, Memoirs Of A Shrew
Is there a Man out there worthy of my free expressive state?
Or do you like everyone else like the sound of your own voice?
Blah! blah! blah!
A Lady must look, and pretend with eyes of interest
While you drone on, and on, and on, never giving her a chance to speak.
Stifle a yawn behind handkerchief
Bat your lashes while he spews about things that do not interest you
Engage in ritualistic fu..ery..., excuse me mockery
A Lady doesn't swear not even in her head
Eyes of mischief gleans
Tell me one more time what I ought!
Darn the dresses, crochet, violin, language, one must learn
That the Bible says
In my mind, I'm running barefoot, wild, and free
Another yawn stifled behind lace hand stitched, oh no not by me
As he in non-inflection baritone, a silly giggle bursting forth
Remember not to laugh out loud, a Lady shouldn't
Ought not, it's unseemly, unladylike
Why Sir do.., please tell me more!
While in my head I'm walking the plains, hills, and valleys
My hair a mess from the grassy knoll
Grass stains adorn my petticoat and dress just me the skies of blue
Why Sir such marvelous accomplishments, I intone
Whilst wishing the jackass would quit his infernal braying
Scream, I scream in my head!
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Copyright@Prose of Molly