The Strike of the Homemakers!

A homemaker, often a woman as per general norm,
She, the one who makes the so-called house, a home.
A job which is honorary to the literal sense,
Is it that shallow to be paid in mere gold or that much dense?
 
The workers of this union are spread everywhere,
One fulfilling her child’s dreams, one saving him from a nightmare.
Best services delivered to people of all ages alike,
Without any demand, protest or strike.
 
But strike, if they want; and that if they announce,
“i won’t do it no more!” Is what they pronounce.
A blasphemy, chaos, or a curse as some may say,
A priceless possession lost, one servant down to the misogynist’s utter dismay.
 
No one to love, nor to care for, the world void of posterity,
No one to feed a morsel of affection; the difference, now clear as clarity!
Passion, respect, virtues, morals; all of their meaning obsolete,
War, agony and envy, now roaming freely on the streets.
 
The wrath of time spares none, nor will this malignant strike,
Arise! Now! Or this will cost both me and you, alike!