I never should've said the words I did
spoken, written or telepathically transferred
Why did I adopt the road of suffering's gate
in the name of some kind of liberty's blinding?
Where I lost the grace and poise of
a true woman
and became closer to the realm of a human dog
used by others, dead to
even trying to hold my head up high
Now to regain the pencil's honour
where do I begin to collect
and recollect my misgivings?
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