Poetry

Silent scorn

Silent scorn, the page’s torn

It sits unsent, unwritten, unthought…

Atop her chest, a weight it rests

Feelings she has often fought

Correcting talk, perfecting walk

Approval always pending…

The apron ties, judgmental sighs

Bitterness descending

No way to win, words under skin

Punishment delayed…

Silent scorn, the pattern’s worn

The game is lost before it’s played