Woman, there’s a tiny line
In between care and control
You want to be his support
Yet you end up being too strong
You want to show you’re loving
Yet you end up draining all love
Like the smell of fire, you steal in
Suffocating his sweet morning sleep
You control his thoughts and feelings
And try like a bear to be overbearing.

On his face he wears a smile of thanks
But on his heart is a face of fears
‘Shall I forever be her schoolboy
When what I really seek is solace?
Shall I forever be controlled by her care
And lose my sense of masculine charm?’
In you he seeks a lover
Why have you become his mother?



  1. Does she recount for herself of her many heroic duties?
    Is her heart in gray gone tired in keeping up the ties?
    Is the small hands of cradle tougher in clichés?
    And the render of thought, a dilution of solutions in laboratories?

    Liked by 1 person

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