I will never be a wife.A Poem by Iliana Peters
There's nothing more exhausting, my mother used to cry,
Than a girl who can't love or a girl who can't lie
There's nothing more frustrating, my mother used to moan, Than a woman in her 40s living all on her own Very few things, my mother used to say, made me want to be like her someday My mother wasn't big, nor brash, nor bold 'You silly b***h, do what you're told!' My father would scream, she was under his thumb 'Don't come out that kitchen till the dinner is done!' My sister was afraid he'd go crazy someday, wrap his hands round her throat and kill her that way She was scared he would lose it on a quiet Friday night, When the vegetables were raw, Or the steak wasn't right, My mother would wash, iron and clean She'd cry in her room when our father was mean This is nothing my darlings, run along like you should Your father is stressed but your father is good Go and play in the garden,tidy up all your things, Do not mourn the future and the lessons it brings We listened to mother and ignored all her pain, We shut out the beatings again and again My sister married off seven years after that To a wealthy Scottish aristocrat, She comes home every few weeks, Her belly is growing, She hides all her bruises but she cant help them showing I can't forgive my mother for the lessons she taught, the normality of ignoring the anguish he brought I feel pain for my sister, I can foresee her life I will be alone at 40, I will never be a wife. © 2019 Iliana PetersFeatured Review
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