The Daily Grind

Tears on the abdomen
Of a woman but it’s ok
For she has a baby
Flexibly skiving with
Benefits driving the Daily
Mail says it’s a holiday
We always seem to denigrate
Ourselves again at the point of being
Fear kills
Even the most
Fecund of seconds
And I hold these close
Why should
Having a child
And a career
Not be reconciled?
We always seem to denigrate
Ourselves again at the point of being
So lost
The ephemeral everywhere
No cost
That our future should have to bear
A sure start
Has unraveled been turned into
Dust and to gravel to trample upon
You must feel so proud
Stigmatising every single mother
While your own world’s falling down