Be a writer with all your might.
You have a story to tell;
That’s a right.
Explain the suffering.
Explain the sadness.
The degradation is such a tragic sense of affairs.
The realism that embodies all fears
Rest deep within the soul below,
Provoke it sadly, watch it slow.
I am a woman
You can’t deny me.
Objection!
I am not an existent, you proclaim to me?
Feeding me this water I grow.
Is this not a mightier me?
With no doubt, but not always the necessary route.
Though here I am,
Am I tragic? Am I square?
My resemblance of a normalized craft
Denies me of a tearful shaft
of mercy.