The entire planet threatens to collapse, 
The whole world is in turmoil;
And you run around worrying about you own freckled a... -- you know what!
Hundred thousands of people and children starve everyday to death,
While you stuff yourself to constipation!

Wasting time and money on your obsessions
Then interrogate the poor husband
Why always works late...

For the trivial and worthless things, you trade
Most of your precious life;
Sleep and wake in frenzy-craze,
Scream around in vicious-circle...
Till your flabby body and spongy brain could take no more,
Drop dead!

You raise hell about things that are utterly senseless,
Then crack-down when the husband overnights elsewhere.
Or why is he too tired to drive on your marathon-shopping-sphere!
And why the kids are not number-one in their sports...

You gore them into submission and competitiveness
Belittle the so-called husband and children!
As you grow more and more into a haughty giant
With their pressurized success.
For your opulent life-style -- squeezed from tears and sweat --
To the end of their nerves you'd drive.

Using all the female's tricks and vile
You pile yourself on the top,
Whether in the house or in the job,
Controlling others and thereby even restricting yourself!
Centering every possible phenomena within your little shell
Feeling ever arrogant - of any worthless straw that you happen to possess!

Ah! Little woman
You forget!
One day the windows of your pretty skeleton forever...
Closed.
And not a single one of those
Can you take with.
No! Not even a wee-little-tiny-bit
Of dust or gold.

For now, you're running around your steaming household
Prided with the heat and chaos of baby-sit like but highly paid post.
Thriving on the illusory nonsense
Of being the boss,
At the expense of your husband's breathing freedom,
And the pure comforts
Of your children.
Using every inconceivable excuse and strategy to submit people at your command...

Listen!
Tell you what...How much more of Your Life can you afford, To spend?
Solidifying the prison that you created and still cement
Suffocating your world into a stuffy-stenchy-pit!
Okay!
What is it!...
That you really want?

Would you ever stop this whirlwind show for a split second
Think logic!
Free yourself and others before time ticks,
Before your noble ideals (if any) and noble body (if at all) lie burned deep under cold ground.
And the tombstone-inscription will be all that's left of you:
"Mrs. so... so from such... such period;
Sorely remembered, sadly beloved --
Died somehow of something at some six... or seventy...
Her wrinkles -- forever fresh in our memories!"

Alas!
That's it.
Whatever the powerful figure --
Once dominated --
Gone.
With the... worms!