I recall every day her callous feats
stirring up an unforgettable pain
her wrath a sweltering heat
something I cannot get out of my brain.
An ocean falls upon my soul
I call it my own emotion
an area that will stay closed.
where is the self-devotion?
Where would it be if she blames me?
I try to please, that’s plain to see
now my work, perfunctory; I have become complacent.
Shall I speak for her to hear?
my fear, my tear, a flawless gear?
I will not speak, a qualm quite queer, but I am not yet brazen;
everything was mental till her hand now breached my face
I stepped back very tentative, she has crossed the line.
I react, a pure reflex, before she gets to brace
after today, I cannot say, to my ardor she is blind