The word nerd yearns.
Finding her courage,
Hoping it still turns
To a fruitful emergence
Of an undeniable
Life's victorious purpose.
Doubting oneself, nothing worse
Than to be pulling oneself from
Their innate intimacy with verse;
Pulling the reigns to avoid
A pulling long felt by the Universe.
I henceforth deny omission
To the self-inflicted curse
Of not wanting to be immersed
In an art for which I thirst.
My gift is for words,
And I ****** myself face-first,
Into a radiant, benevolent star-burst.
What could go wrong? The absolute worst?
From following the pull of the Universe?