Cruelty On Beauty

I won by marriage a woman, a beauty queen. I own a fear in her beauty, which was fire. I must have a hold on her from others’ sway. She must be perpetually kept in motherhood With her desire to nurse rather than glamour, And to shed flesh and charm from birth after birth. Tired of five kids, she refused to have another. Unsecured still was I, with her charm still tormenting. Helpless, I saw her go to balls to move with lords. I live now in exile from her as well as men With out any regret that, to make her barren I have gone for an intensive cultivation. 25.05.2007.