June 05, 2022
Often been told she was too outspoken
Whipped with demands – she felt broken.
“Why do you write so? Toss your quill
Who wants to know when there is no skill.
Rid yourself of such notions - for whom to read”?
Slowly, slowly her heart began to bleed.
Manacled hands - difficult to write
Questions of why –forked tongues with spite
Continued from doubters most cruel
Leaving her as their jester’s fool.
Invisible shackles to her hands
She gave in to those demands
But words kept flooding her mind
Beautifully, poetically entwined.
Like the princess in the tower
In chains depriving her of power,
Not daring to reach for her quill
Words trapped unable to spill.
Days, months and years passed by
Till her inner voice one day asked - Why?
“You have stories to tell and share,
You doubters had better beware”
So Like Excalibur she drew her quill
Slicing through her doubters at will.
And words began to pour onto her page,
Filled with furious anger and rage!
Her quill had now become her steel
Forcing her doubters to kneel.
“I will not bow down to you again.
I have cast aside all fetters and chain.
My own self-belief has been restored
My quill has now become my sword!
Do not stand in my way.
I will with one stroke– I will slay!
Now cast your eyes to the heavens yonder
My creativity never again to squander”.
She then thrust her sword aloft up high,
And carved her name into the sky.
While the blood of those who questioned her worth,
From her blade did drip and fall to earth.
Restraints from those who had held her bound,
Lay scattered and tossed across the ground.
No longer a victim of her own captivity,
With open arms she re-embraced her creativity.
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