Pure: Poetry

Wear your corset,
cover your hair
remember to be prim;
On your doorstep
standing there
Is your master, yes, it's him

We reared you well
in chastity and quiet
What lovely piano you play!
We smothered passion that dwells
in the sexual diet
and kept the intellect at bay

But now you damn us
with your wiles of independent hue
You, the rebel mare!
Now you scandalize us
with your brazen truths
on t.v burning bras and underwear

And then to think
you'd walk into our boardrooms
once filled with burgundy and smoke
Can't you see you push the brink
of the putrid churning fumes
on which now we choke?

Who let you into the books?
Who gave you a say
in a world that belongs to men?
Knowledge is no bubbling brook
beside which you play
Remember your master- Him!

In birth, we raised you by the cross
In childhood, we saw you cry
In adulthood, we saw you shake if off
and from our wisdom fly

Darling Daughter,
Can't you see
that we only wanted
you to remain pure?

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