She gets drunk and then she hits me,
But, I can never strike her back,
Because if I do I would be arrested
And I would receive all of the hateful flak.
She curses and then she slanders me
My name and my reputation she then smears,
But, when I talk back to her, she cries
Then out comes her true weapons, her tears.
She tells me that she will always trust me
But, of course that isn't the truth,
She checks my wallet and sniffs my clothes
As though she is suspicious, and a sleuth.
She asks me if I think that she is fat
I tell her that she isn't, she calls me a liar,
She then asks me if her friends are pretty
I won't answer her, I will not jump into that fire.
She asks me will I always forgive her
I tell her that I would hope to do so,
Then she asks of her sins would I forget, I would
But, she reminds me of my mistakes from years ago.
She tells me that she is going out shopping
So, she heads out the door in a dash,
But, when I spend a dollar without asking
She complains that I am spending all of our cash.
She asks me if I would like to talk
I tell her that I have nothing to say,
Then I am accused of keeping secrets
Sometimes, I feel like her prey.
She occasionally asks me if I am happy
I always tell her that I really am,
Though she acts like that she doesn't believe me
When she gives my answers, a cross-exam.
She makes me nervous when she is around
Especially when she's an attacker, a judge or a referee,
How I wish that I could understand a woman
Then sometimes, I just wonder who is she.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Tis true. We women are hard to get along with- it got hard-wired into our nature by unpleasant events. I am really getting fond of your poetic voice- it is easy and natural and thoughtful. 10 and onto fav list