FISH IN A BARREL

The mating game
A perilous endeavor
The meek are slaughtered
Exalted, the clever
Slinky dresses, painful heels
The price we will pay
To compete and allure
And win affections.
Lined up like the inventory in a store
Wrapped in a pretty shell of beads and couture
The aim of this game
Can be likened to war.
Our intentions are fierce
For, the target is scarce.
We destroy the opponent
We injure and maim
We blasphemize and tarnish
With no conscience, no shame.
Our decadent, devious demise
The battlefield has been bloodied
The losers left lame.
And for what prize has this wrath been wrought?
Perhaps fortune...
Perhaps fame...
To marry well
Has wrought this hell.
Yes, oh yes, we are to blame.
For the psyches and spirits of our SISTERS have been slain.
At the end of the day
We are, as we remain
But fish in a barrel
The pawns of this game.