Power

I am so sick of being the victim,
the martyr,
the one needing help.
Egotistical men love a damsel in distress;
they love to buy me a meal
and tell me I'm worth more than I have.
They don't believe that though.
You see
they especially love when I need a place to stay,
eagerly offering the spot in bed beside them.
They love when I only need to talk,
yet it ends up less talk and more play.
What they love most though,
is the power they hold
as my provider,
as my life force.
And I am so sick of being powerless.