Me.

What is the worth of a woman,

When you lay her down and pour yourself into her,

And no connection was bound.

What is the worth of a woman,
When nine months later,
You say goodbye, and turn around?

What is the worth of a woman,
Who gives herself loyally unto you.
Who know she is an empty seed without a sound.

What is the worth of a woman,
When her infertility is found?

You will tell her,
Tell her it’s okay.
There’s more to life than reproduction,
That is what they all say.

But when you ask the worth of a woman,
Who, at night, has no baby to lay.
You come up short.

A loss of words.

That is a woman of no worth.
When she is pitied and left behind.
Empty handed, tears have landed,

She has crossed the line.

And when you ask who is to blame,

Be it God, or some holy thing.
You always come up short,

Because the thing to blame,

The thing to blame is
Me.