Some call it a prison sentence, some call it worse.
I call it marriage.
Marriage can be rewarding, nothing is perfection.
Indeed when you are a looking from the inside.
Like a window you can't have your own reflection.
Nothing is perfect, nothing is peaceful.
You can't have your own mind.
You can't speak ill of anyone.
You can't share your thoughts.
You can't call others out.
Nothing is perfect, but others call marriage a prison.
I can't see it.
He doesn't like questions, he doesn't like when I don't follow his rules.
He doesn't like when I speak ill of someone else.
How can I say this my ball and chain becomes tighter and tighter.
About the Creator
Louise Blake
Louise or LouLou loves writing so much it has became a career she loves. But while struggling with the starving artist part she is trying to find a job that can give her a passive income.
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Comments (1)
hugs, nice poem