DEATH TO THE BRA

An ache in my back
A pull in my shoulders
The aggravated crick in my neck
An itch to readjust
As if I’m on crack

The urge to get home
To unclasp those infernal hooks
To rip the fabric
From my bound body
A freedom we should all know

Who created this contraption
That plagues us all
That society deems nessary
That inhibits muscles
And makes us ache?

Death to the bra
Let’s run free
No more restrictions
No more pain
Burn them all!

Your Beloved Author,
Sandra Easter

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