In the dustiest corner of the library,
In a tome dustier and untouched,
I have at last found a poem
About a hero trudging along with a mop,
There's cooking and washing next,
With the same furrowed brow he labours,
There's no fair damsel for him
But there's a dusky one with a scowl so dark,
Spreadeagled on the couch, not waiting for him
To say, "Only your 50% left to do, love."
But then, it is this poem you read,
To make you wonder about a world so unfair.
🥲😇🙃
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