A Brain-Dead Child (Revised) Poem by Margaret Alice Second

Bloody hell, is this what love is? Must one
accept an endeared’s allowed to cut you off
when you want to discuss something close
to your heart - and then is entitled to even
get his own way afterwards?

No way! Not now! I’ll fight for my rights,
each night I’ll exercise when I come home
like Mandela did each morning of his life,
I shall stand up for myself like he did,28
years in jail for that freedom to live

In the land of his birth - so cut me off, go on
please, you’ll make me strong, eventually I’ll
also decide upon no more transgression, you
cannot provide while you treat me like a
brain-dead child…