Gentle ladies, take a while
And choose your mate with lesser style.
Beware the charismatic charm
Of the misogynistic arm.
He’ll ply with love charms, charmingly,
Until he has you all at sea
With this imagined love you’ve found.
He’s swept your feet right off the ground
And carried you away with stars
That twinkle in your laughing eyes.
Yes he can play this game for years
If need be.  But slowly he tears
You right away from those you love,
For you to him your love must prove
In every tiny detail now.
And if you can’t then face this row
He’ll find your weakness, badger you
Until your broken health ensue.
His buffets then you can’t oppose
Yet constantly inflicted those
Abuses in the verbal might
Turn physical, and then the fright
Brings on its shame.  You will not tell.
Results of that you know full well
Amount to just some more abuse
And then some, coming so obtuse
From left and right.  It’s your own fault.
Well so he tells it.  You’re the dolt
Who so upset him, made him fire
Assaults at you.  Not his desire.
And you believe him.  P’rhaps if you
Had not done this or did eschew
That other thing.  
                                You cannot win.
You finally will see this thing
For what it is, and pack and leave.
That’s if there’s some-one who’ll receive
Your brokenness, and take you in
To give you time to heal again.
‘But he’s so nice’, they say in town.
“We can’t imagine him knocking you down.”
He tells them how you selfishly
Took off with children.  You must be
The meanest woman round this place.
He’ll find someone to take your place.
He must have someone on his arm
Whose looks are sweet and full of charm,
Who’ll do the work he needs her to.
What else is there for him to do?