A Song Of Seasons

It's a cold, cold day,

And the words of the Lady,

Frostily calculated, haunts my mother,

As she washes the dishes.

Insulting, Demeaning,

The former never gives the latter

A chance to breathe.

And she wasn't allowed to scream out loud.

It's a windy, windy day,

And the touch of the Master,

Frighteningly breezy, repels me,

As I sweep the floor.

Creepy, Slimy,

The former never gives me

A chance to say 'No'.

And I wasn't allowed to cry.

It's a hot, hot day,

And the glare of the Lord,

Swelteringly cruel, follows my father,

As he toils in the fields.

Disdainful, Superior,

The former never gives the latter

A chance to prove himself.

And he wasn't allowed to raise his eyes.

It's a dreary, dreary day,

And the commands of the Family,

Unfortunately superior, cage us,

As we just exist.

Sharp, Hurtful,

The former never gives us

A chance to live our lives.

And we weren't allowed to scream out loud,

We weren't allowed to cry,

We weren't allowed to raise our eyes,

We weren't even allowed to die.