THE SUBMISSIVE

Pressed in

Tightly pressed in are the desires of life

Into the heart that is tied and prevented from growing

There are ambitions begging to be chased

Freedom begging to be worn

As heat lives in a body of clothes

There are bodies begging for sunlight

Bodies begging for air

Voice begging for a song

But some words living in an archaic book

Hold more power

And challenges me to love kneeling

To cherish human worshipping

To live for another when I have a heart

So fingers are filed for the kitchen and pleasure

All that fills the thoughts are troubles of a human god

Who needs to be worshipped

As he chooses to worship Him or another her

I know my time is limited

Three productions and I am thrown like a rag

Onto a ground left for another with a future like mine

Who gives womanhood and manhood?

These shoes are too heated

Air it a bit, for submissives lack not

But I lack and I am no dog on four feet

Time holds my hands in ticks

Dragging me to a grave

Yes, a grave with all that begs to be seen and known

As society looks on, unmoved

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

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