| |
Here I sit, contemplating
The raw deal I was given
In the Garden of Eden
When I was shunned because I was
Independent.
“I’ll not be your concubine!”
I said to that bastard, Adam,
That conceited chauvinist
Who saw me as nothing more than
His manhood’s sheath.
So, wings spread, away I flew,
Seeking better companionship.
And the poor bastard was sad
His toy had up and left him
All alone.
God pitied his son, and sent
Three angels to bring me back.
But Adam added to their task,
Behind his holy father’s back,
A contract.
I’d joined a society
Of demons seeking affection,
Countless infamous beings,
Lucifer, Lamia, and Set
To name a few.
The three angels soon found me
And attacked while I sunbathed,
Threatening to drown me if
I refused to return to my
Conniving husband.
Despite popular belief,
I truly adore children,
The most innocent form of life.
I find nothing more beautiful
In this world.
And these three angels agreed
To let me live in misery
If I never came in contact
With another child again,
My own or not.
As if that curse was not enough,
I was also to allow
One hundred of my flesh and blood
To die every single day,
Forever.
With streaming eyes, I agreed
To never see or keep a child,
And they left me with my life,
But took my heart with them in pieces
Back to Adam.
Adam got a hot new wife,
A degrading substitute for
The position I once filled,
A ditz made from Adam’s own rib.
I hope it hurt.
I’m currently a symbol
For feminists and Jewish wives
To adore as an icon
Of feminine independence
And divinity.
Just the kicker-upper I need,
To be a divine role model
For arrogant, sexist pigs
Who blame all men for their own
Poor tastes in mates.
I’m sure God still loves me, since
He learned what Adam did to me.
Now three angels are fallen,
Adam and Eve burning deep in
Tartarus,
And my offspring bear no curse,
Though God’s limited my supply
As demons tend to cause trouble.
I try to act understanding.
He knows best.
So I sit here, as the years roll by,
Warring with my fellow demonesses,
Enduring the scorn of the holy,
Receiving male-haters’ idiotic praise,
And crying.
|
Help Us Stop Plagiarism -
Nearly all works at PnP are original. However a few people choose to plagiarize.
To check, choose a phrase from the work, then either drag and drop to the search box or copy and paste.
click on search and works at Google will be shown which match. Just to be sure, please do this before
you recommend or rate the work highly...
|
 |
|
|
|
Select a Random Work
from Poetry
|
|
Welcome !
