The Pimple's Concern

in

I inched and grew, an unfurling fern,
pulsating a healthy, lovely pink.

Yes, we often don’t see eye to eye.
But this – you know, don’t you? –
is all for your own good.

Then, you kissed, lazily.
Women piled before you
stamped them with your mouth.
A little whore-like, I may add.
Alice would be ashamed.

Beneath, I nagged and begged,
but you, you didn’t listen.

It’s time you learn.
I erupted into being,
a mount of resilient pleasure.
I sat on my throne,
a panoptic view.
Those women feared my gaze,
they cowered away, judged.
I’ll nag and fuss and fret.
Yes, you’ll learn.

This is all for your own good.
I’m teaching you propriety where
your mother failed.
You’ve no choice,
You must listen and obey.

You stroked me and winced.
You longed to claw me out,
scratching and scraping.
You have power and wealth
and you have me.

I’m your teacher,
you'll learn.
In the murky red,
I see:
you’re meant for greatness.

This is all for your own good.

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