Although far from Shakespeare, I can relate
That my Mr.’s eyes are nothing like the sun.
Malevolently bright they shine at dusk,
So bright, they blind, nitroglycerin-like.
They are what esoterics deem ‘the false light.’
No warmth of their own, his bright eyes are cold.
They pierced my soul, and have left it void.
I won’t avoid accountability, but—
To orbit Saturn, I was not born;
To live in Ur(anus), I’d rather not.
Born on a Friday, I disrupt, shock, and create—
You can keep your last name to yourself.
I choose being the villain over playing your pawn,
And I despise the claps, so you can keep them all…
Doubtlessly, when in doubt, it is better to start all over again. Harsh experiences teach us that beginning from scratch is as possible as it is a stepping stone for our souls’ individual journeys.
You can live your truth or live in others’ truth— which some of us find too pricey for the company of elsewho, no matter how much we have loved them. Accompanied or not, when we feel like nobody truly listens to us, maybe it’s due time to start listening to the voice within.
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