This is not a poem.
I just discovered I have Taylor Swift Syndrome. The subject matter of my poems seem to always be my life's tragic dismay at the hands of an "ain't **** man. I thus must sorrowfully self-diagnose myself with , as well as possibly be the first to officially coin the term, Taylor Swift Syndrome.
What is the cure you ask?
Simply taking control of my actions and not writing bitter *** "why don't you love me" poems. Most specifically my continued volunteering of my heart to people who I know are incapable of nurturing it in the way is so desires and then proceeding to ***** and moan through my creative talent about them not doing what I know they are unable to do MUST STOP!!
Treatment you said?
A complete subject matter shift of my poetry for the next 3 to 9 month, I'm honestly unsure of how long it will take but if 9 months is enough time to create a human being it is surely enough time to change a mindset. From this point until either August 2013 or February 2014 I shall no longer be a he woman, man hater poet.
Let the journey begin.
-Dr. Rab.