Why not?

“Perhaps. Why not?” A word is all it took

to jostle into motion all that is

and what might be. “Who cares?” By hook or crook,

the first and final words are always his.

Perhaps, you’re sick of missives spelled “Submit.”

Perhaps, the charm is shattered like a glass

pressed to your lips, so cloying you could spit,

refused, abused, and cast into the grass.

I think the Bang that birthed us all just broke

under the stress of what you must endure.

It feels the punch and understands the joke,

but, why it should be funny, She’s unsure.

These microverse aggressions make no sense.

Mankind is bruised at womankind’s expense.