Still a child, you tread that dangerous path,
The masculine, manly, man takes you in his arms.
Your innocence is lost in the summer breeze.
As you both lie naked among the thick, dark, oak trees.
The happy day comes, after many months of pain.
Family feuds have ravaged your once childlike brain.
You stand at the altar, with child, in vain.
You wear the pure white of innocence, but your heart wears a greyness, a stain.
The happy home beckons, the threshold is crossed.
You cradle your baby and smile that hard to find smile.
Your husband, the worker, that rarely seen man.
He never caresses your still soft body, so you look for others, you look for somebody.
At last you find your freedom, you work the early hours, serving drinks for men.
Those little comments, those knowing glances, those cheeky little slaps.
Your husband unknowing, watches T.V., in your cold, frigid home.
While you work in that lustful heat, accepting lifts home, in fast, warm, cars.
But now the second mistake of your life, it grows within you, a burden.
Back to the breeding ground, nine more months of discomfort.
Your son is born, unlike your husband, but similar to the man with the car.
You give reasons, you explain, he accepts, back to the playground, away from the pain.
For years you deceive, lovers in the morning discreetly leave.
Your husband, that ageing man, still works, still ignores, but still believes.
His marriage is happy, his meals prepared, his clothes are clean.
But the stains in the bed, the hint of aftershave, they are never seen.
Middle-age arrives, you still cling to the happy times.
But a drunken stupor replaces the feelings within your lover's arms.
That last link with morality is gone, your Mother - dead, your mind runs wild.
Everything you do is foolish, all your acts embarrass, like those of a child.
But now, a problem, your husband's heart gives way, four times he nears death.
You display compassion, your friends believe, but you yearn for his final breath.
Your children support, your relations pity, but you sit in your room and hope.
Everyone knows how hard it is, you make sure you tell them you'll never cope.
He recovers, you sneer, how much longer must you keep up the falsehood and lies?
You ignore your home, your Motherly duties.
Your body is forgotten, the dirt begins to show, the clothes turn to tatters.
But you know, it's still in you, that youthful abandon, love after all, is all that matters.
Your search is fruitful, you find the man, he satisfies your every demand.
Back to your teens, your wildest dreams, you're living your life again.
But your son discovers, he knows your mind, he hurts you more.
He tells you, you're nothing more, than a bitch, a slut, a slag, a whore.
He knows the thoughts in Margaret's mind.