'' Sympathy For Us Is Rare '' Poem by Bri Mar

A woman's work is never done,
Being one is just no fun,
Beware the moaning has just begun.
Life just isn't fair.

Take the cleaning it's so hard,
The frying pan filled with lard,
Too much bleach leaves me scarred,
From mops I do beware.

Loading up the washing machine,
All those dishes I must clean,
It's heavy going this caffeine,
I need someone to share.

Filthy toilets I don't even use?
I clean up what you abuse,
I think I'm going to blow a fuse,
Why is it you don't care.

The Dyson needs emptying now,
He says darling I don't know how,
Wiping the sweat from my brow,
I collapse on to the chair.

Doing my hair and make up too,
My all over tan I love to do,
Just so I look nice for you,
Then all you do is stare.

Giving birth the ultimate task,
How did it happen don't dare ask,
Never again will I leave my Basque,
Don't you bloody dare?

Time of the month is it here to stay,
Menopause, please go away,
A woman's life let us pray,
No wonder we bloody swear.

Luckily enough our stamina's strong,
Sussing you out doesn't take long,
We're always right and never wrong,
That look will always scare.

How dare you ask me why I brood?
Praying I'm always in the mood,
Even you men must conclude,

‘' Sympathy For Us Is Rare ‘'