First Things First

You worked for yourself,

Keeping the baby and me, on a delicate breakable glass shelf,

Let’s get that straight,

I never fell for your unconvincing bait,

Along with your foolish arguments of how selflessly you travelled,

So that the baby and I, could be dazzled,

With your expensive gifts of chocolates, toys and finally an empty, luxurious house,

Let me remind you, I wasn’t a puppet of a spouse,

I’ve worked hard too,

I’ve happily juggled being a lonely wife and later a lonely mother, without ever questioning you,

On the days you sounded extra pig-headed,

I reminded you, of my days of being employed in a corporate house and being wedded,

To you, successfully juggling my responsibilities of being a wife and an employee,

So, quit annoying me,

If you were a partner, I gave up the chance of being an account director,

Only because, you chose to be a silent spectator, 

In our journey of parenthood,

You didn’t allow me to enjoy my motherhood,

For the first one year,

You chewed my brains and my ears,

Whining about how I loved the baby, more than you,

Let me tell you,

Yes, I did love him, more than you,

For that tender, first year, because he didn’t get that affection from you,

His very own father, his primary maker,

So shame on you, for persistently reminding me that you were the bread winner, 

For the five years, I chose to be a mother,

You didn’t bother,

Bonding with your infant,

Instead, you chose to side with your contingent,

Of toxic “well wishers”, who advised you,

To sit on your high and mighty pedestal and continue your brew,

Of work and music, for the woman must fend for the child,

Never the man, for he must run wild,

And live out all his dreams,

Especially now, so that they can beam,

And take control over his life,

Especially his child and wife,

You happily agreed, like a brainless buffoon,

Dancing to their every tune,

Well congratulations to you and to them, on your death,

My only prayer for them, is to have laboured and painful breaths.