Condition

His fingers thread their way through my hair
It could be the gentlest of touches
But I know what will happen

His fingers will caress my scalp
Until he sees fit
To grasp my hair in his fist

He will use the grip to pull my face to his
To whisper in my ear
All the things he wants to do to me
And the things he will make me do

I am ashamed that this can happen
To a woman in this day and age
To be controlled by a single man
To answer to his every whim and demand

But I know that whatever I do to escape
My condition will always remain the same

A slave to desire
The desire of others to control
And my own deep-rooted desire to serve.