You can take away the sun
So it won't shine to give warmth
You can take away the moon
So it won't calm the seas
You can take away the very air I breathe
So I can't draw in breath to live
But Don't take away my poems

You can beat me until purple shows
You can slap me till my skin is raw
You can shoot me in the heart
and rip it to sherds like it was made of paper
But don't take away my poems

My poems are my children
Made from my own mind
Made from my own hands
And even if one might be different from the other
They are still mine
My painful memories
My compliants about life
My sorrows
My joys

You can take away my identity
You can take away my very name
You can even make it that I don't live no more
and waste away in a field where I can't be found
But Don't take away my poems