Woman... you are weak
Only in as much as
You need to peek
Into the bathroom cabinet
And grab a razor
Because you must, must, must
Use that under arm hair eraser
Then gently pluck
Every single hair above
Those deep brown eyes
That I always love
When they peek into me
What do they see
What do you see in me
Your look leaves me weak, on my knee
And then when you talk
I hang on every word speak
You call me out, call me freak
Call me to you with your shriek
Call me with your bleak critique
Call me old, a crap antique
Calling out my feeble physique
You call me man, call me weak
We call our everything unique.

Sylvia Plath, American poet and author, died today in 1963.