"I made a product for men"

My Father's words resonated in my head
What did he mean by "product"?
My seven year old mind
tried to put it together
like a puzzle
I couldn't quite put the pieces together
I left my father's words
scattered on the floor that day

Ten years later
you crawled out of the darkness into my soul
you took my dignity that night and
my mind couldn't help but drift
to the grocery store
ten years back
where my father told the cashier
that he had made a "product" for men

The seven year old me
picked up the words
my father spit out,
not knowing what they would
one day do to his little girl
I put them together
each piece fit perfectly
I knew exactly what my father meant by "product" now

"Product"
that's precisely what I was to you
something to be used
for your satisfaction
I was to be submissive
to the male
"dont disappoint him"

I was held captive
in my own body
a body that was now in your possession

you used me carelessly
left me dry
without life
nothing could be planted in me and flourish anymore

Somehow what you did to me
was acceptable
what you made me do
over and over again
until it was ideal for you
was acceptable
I am a product
that is what I was made to do
I was meant to be used by you
over and over again

I'm pretty sure it'd take forever, to tell you all the places that I've been
I swear to god, I'd live forever, if my soul could last until then

A hollow guess
Sinking fast
Never more than a misstep
I never really thought that we'd last

A stupid joke
Badly told
Whatever helps
Best find something to hold

Something to stand on

I'm pretty sure it'd take forever, to tell you all the places that I've been
But I swear to god, I'd live forever, if my soul could last until then

A hollow frame
Hung by a silver chord
Slowly played
Over the last open door

My final day
To make a change
Emotions fade
Even as I feel them more

I seldom speak

Anymore

I've found out that I'm too ******* bored

It would take me forever, to tell you all the places that I've been
You know I'd live forever, if my soul could last until then

If you did see me
Its on me
A mistake
To say the least

Please don't stop to question
If anyone
Really loves me

product endorsements
are what I like to do
and boy have I got
a good product for you
since I've been wearing
the EverFlex brand
of shoe
endorsing them is all
I like to do
they've a comfortable fit
and on the foot
they so nicely sit
EverFlex are the kings
in the shoe-making vocation
and should you not be
slipping into a pair
your feet won't be
sensing elation

How sad for you, Ivanka dear,
the world can be so mean.
You toil so hard both night and day
there at your sewing machine.

To bring the world such wondrous joy
of shoes and bags and fashion
but big, bad Nordstrom came along
and stomped upon your passion.

You seem kind and intelligent
but folks won't buy your stuff,
'cause you support your daddy
and of him, they've had enough.

Ivanka, we all understand
that you must love your dad.
But narcissistic greed and power
have driven him quite mad.

So please Ivanka, intervene.
Enable him no more.
Just let us know you disagree
and step back, we implore.

If you and Jared do what's right,
then you we will adore,
and you may find, your product line
will be back in the store!

I’ve lost more than I’d wish
to lose
and learned more than
I’d like to.

This is what happens
when kids
grow up.

I am a product
of a broken boy
becoming a
measly man
in a
wallowed world
that has no room for

generosity.

The world will not end
with a spark
to the neck or a
chill
on the spine.

The world will not
die silently into
a night that
no good man
can bare.

The world will end
when the
human race
allows greed
to conquer
grace.

And my friends,

we are
well on our
way.

Dontcha just hate trying to finish a poem?
It's always like there could be just a hint of this, a dash of that;
too much seasoning, not enough time spent simmering;
did you use the right amount of ingredients;
was it tablespoons or teaspoons?

Dontcha wish you could just pluck one out of the freezer:
One wrapped up in a neat little package?
Leaving it on the stove-top to thaw a little,
before heating it up at your timely convenience?

I wish I knew when these **** things were done;
Wish I could stick em in a microwave, clock in the allotted time for a work like that to be well-cooked and consumable--
Wait around zoning out to the droning tone of the toasting note,
then awake from my spell by the sweet dinging of completion.

I'd take that steamy sucker out of that commodious kiln
in such great haste I can barely hold it in my hands!
"Boy oh boy does this one look tasty!"

I'd sit down with my necessary utensils and have a go at it, chewing thoughtfully and enjoying this wonderful piece I have prepared by myself for myself--and without all the hassle and wasted time
spent slaving over books and pages and pens and inspirations!

But ****;
Nobody likes poems cooked out of pre-made packages;
they're a little too rubbery, a little too mushy, a little too bland--
and worse off they were made by the assemblyman's hand! (or claw).

Nobody likes their poems coming out of pre-made packages;
They ain't nothing like the real thing.

I was at this party one time,
where an ex-girlfriend of mine
gave me **** over the type of beer I was sipping on.

"Ohmigod,
I can't believe you're drinking a blonde!"

In that moment,
I remembered why we'd broken up;
Her pretentiousness was way over the top.

I don't even care if they care.
Just give me a pair of eyes to stare at while I improvise lines.
A couple of ears to hear some sorry excuses for rhymes.
I'll recite them all for less than a dime.
I'm just hoping for another free Corona.
(Please hold the ******* lime.)