You say it's obvious.
Obvious like what? The trees
Shedding leaves in winter?
The cliche of silence before the
Cyclone in summer?
The farmers praying for rain,
Sailors cursing the same?
Children killed in war and fresh
Absence of a father when he dies?
The torment of life getting to me
And my self-inflicted wounds
Screaming even when there's
No pain?
True or false. Obvious or not.
When you say it in a condescending
Tone. Your patronizing words
Hammer my head down, and
I squeak like a slut, enslaved
To give you a hard-on.