He built a cage for her out of the bones of their own children,
And how little and compliant she seemed inside it,
Toiling away at imagined responsibilities,
The demons in her mind were all to willing to listen to his,
And his slothful habits never ceased to give her something to do,
A distraught mind and overworked body has little time to examine a cage,
And cage or no, it still should be clean and comfortable… right?
How complacent, arrogant and overbearing he became,
So sure of his singular tactic,
But her gaze was always far beyond the cage, she was only waiting,
Through days of stark clarity, and days on the edge of madness, she waited,
Bones are not steel,
They would weaken.
JHenry