In Circe’s world, all men are pigs.
They snuffle and snort and tell endless fibs.
and once you think they may be tamed,
they shit on the rug, and you are blamed.
‘I thought you said you’d trained this thing!
That rug’s worth more than a diamond ring! Send it to the slaughterhouse.
men have no use, just get it out.’
The silent pleas of wet little eyes
are supposed to make you melt inside.
Instead, recoil, and hold your ground.
men are a bore to be around.
Send him off and don’t shed tears—
men have been like this for years!
there’s nothing to do, all hope is lost.
The best thing to do is make sure they’re tossed.
In the real world, all men are pigs.
they snuffle and snort and tell endless fibs.
So offer your potions to those men,
and make sure they never speak again.
No more rotten, evil words,
only a sty, where they roll in their turds.
Featured image held in the public domain via Wikimedia.