Myths used to portray how
Eve possessed the original sin
Along with her overripe
Pain, passed down to all of kin
Confess, tell me now
Is this the reason why
Women get born with shame
Stamped on our skin, shame
Buried within, shame
Dragged for decades
Like that tree in Eden
This shame shall never die
Banished, barely forgiven
As soon as you leave
Your mother’s ribs
You are subjected to laws
Of your father’s rage
The world where men
Decides on who I am
Should have been
Left as a myth

Burning incessantly like a rabid fire,
As I stand and reign in this colossal tower,
With no soulmate in sight, not in any hour.

Though in this land, I am beaming with power,
My words get sharpened like a lethal dagger,
Valiant and rigid, expect me not to cower.

Somehow, somewhere, a shadow drew closer,
I thought to myself, what a daring wanderer!
And then welcomed him with a raging saber.

Day after day, ambushed him into crossfires,
My traps and theatricals never seem to expire;
Yet despite all these, he just found me lovelier.  

With him, I have learned to enjoy the flowers,
For he filled me with such devotion and desire;
The kind of love to cherish and admire.

I was angry at the world,
Until I get to see you sleep;
There and then,
Turbulent waves grew calm ashore,
Stars twinkled more brightly than ever before,
You were the oasis I've been looking for.

I never knew love had a sound,
Until I heard you laugh;
There and then,
Your voice became music to my ears,
It was all I ever wanted to hear;
A hymn that erases my anxiety and fears.

I never thought a love like this was even possible,
Until you came along;
There and then,
I want to spend my eternity with you;
In difficult times, we’ll see through;
Thanks for showing me a love so pure and true.

Am I suffering beautifully?
Do I wear my agony like a crown?
Adorn it with pearls and jewels,
And parade it into town?

Is my pain reasonable enough?
Do I raise it up or tone it down?
I’ll try to cry pretty, tiny tears,
In fact, I'd do it in my gown!

For even in despair, I should be desirable,
Dare not to be emotional, dare not to make a sound.
To be a woman is to bleed, but glamorously.
There shall be glitters in the meltdown.

I remember that light vividly
Watching peace flicker within the trees
When a crow flew by, whispered something to me

Now, basking in the mourning sun
Everything was still, inert, and calm
Yet I can sense the somber nights to come

Continued my walk while holding my breath
The bugs in the dirt can now hear me wept
It’s time for the sunrise but someone has set

Language is a gably thing,
One can gister words as they go;
Cacophony of sounds we set meanings with,
Leaving me flummoxed every time I unwreathe.

Sesquipedalian, dollipling, mollycoddle
Do these quixotic words truly exist?
Wattucturic, rigmarole, dorizating
Naf, won’t tell you which is which.

Maybe words do not aim to bamboozle,
But some are just too choorlish to have been born;
Reminds me of how whimsical humanity is,
Passing on wanches that spell like these.

An artist skilled in silent resolve
The world is mesmerized by your majestic show
Countless watched as you conquered those conflicts
All they saw was the greatness as you grow.

An artist skilled in silent resolve
The world is fooled by your flamboyant show
Beneath the surface, scarred and beaten
Unaware of the bloodshed braved in the low

An artist skilled in silent resolve
The world should not be of worry to whatever you show
Your hidden battles, a courage untold
May we raise a glass to the healing you bestow