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It is very hard to tell in advance, after all,
Having been kept for a long time in thrall.
If you are not prepared for it, any sudden change,
Can be quite stressful, as to cause high cholesterol.
He thinks you are weird. “The sage looks like a fool.”
No matter how fiery he gets, you keep calm and cool.
You’ll no longer be treated like an instrument, a tool,
Nor as an inanimate object or a statute without a soul.
If you wish to study at the university, or go to school,
No one would prevent you from. Go ahead and enroll.
So may he think, but you sure are not immature at all.
You are a grown-up lady, not a little girl grown tall.
It’s him who has lowered and made himself so small.
But he can hardly admit it and face his own downfall.
He does not listen to you; it is like talking to a wall.
That kind of a person does not have much on the ball.
His exploits are all things of the past one doesn’t recall.
All discussions with him end up in argument and brawl.
He no longer is frightening as to make one’s skin crawl.
Men don’t behave all in the same manner on the whole.
However plainly trying to explain to him, it’s all the same.
He boldly thinks, you’re, for everything, the one to blame.
He never gets embarrassed; he has lost all sense of shame.
He sure has delusions of grandeur, “I am Timer the Lame,
Napoleon and Alexander the Great,” so does he proclaim.
Self-centered, he won’t rescue a house going up in flame,
He does nothing to get anywhere, yet he craves for fame.
He lives with no planning; he doesn’t have a precise aim.
It is hard to tell if he is serious or only playing the game.
It is noteworthy to see how a few men were and became.
However you excel yourself, he pays you no compliment.
You interest him merely for use as a tool, an instrument.
He is unstable; he may act in any manner, any moment.
You cannot discuss with him; he accepts no argument.
You cannot express yourselves or make any comment.
All you can afford to do is mourn, wail and lament.
All these are causes of your distress and torment.
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