Didn't, to foretell?
Have and need soon, the exaction in a pace
We foretell is peace, a looking wish, well...
The reach of a new passion, seldom in may?

Choices
Staring ours, to win the pardon
Here is my, courtesy in new sources...
That collect a need, with calm as a problem

Hatred, is a role to finish a thought
With a deed's chaste...
Welcome it to a liberty, with no future, but a whim...?
That worlds have claimed that no man may pass...

Up
In heaven, them and tows of charisma
Curious, enough to understate love?
With another use, in the corner with its own; enigma

Here indeed...
The irony of response, kindness, to wrap a frank finger
About the succor of purpose, the identity of becoming heed
Been whether a bit lip, a changing season and a breeze to linger...

In your soul, with a boding craving...
Peace was a simple friend, that you sent to a lovelorn ghost?
Speak your piece of a puzzle, none the less a work in saving...
Another way, from the spoils of worlds, that has come to host:

Us
The praise of angst, for a belly of conscience and mere?
An awakening hindsight to love, to remind in certain voice, thus
Is its own reward when a callous promise shines; is, was never fear...

I'm a Feminist
But
My ovaries are in pain.

I'm a woman
But
I don't feel connected to my main vein.
I'm bleeding in places much deeper than my-

I'd say the word
But i'll refrain.

Instead of being taught to embrace,
I've learned to drown
In
The
Pain
Of
Being
A
woman.

Soft
Weak
Instead of
strong
And unique.

Instead of taking agency,
I'm treated like an antique.
Fragile,
Even though i've survived
Everything men told me...

(I'll leave you to ponder but
won't describe. )

I love being a woman,
But it's a love/hate relationship
I can't lie. 
I take pride
But when my head hits the pillow,
I do cry.

In fact, I mourn.

I mourn the excitement society had for me when I was born.
Now i'm rejected,
Because of children i haven't ejected,
Penises i haven't erected,
a husband i haven't selected.

A pariah if you will,
But i have my own will.
Something women are shamed for because we feel,
Feel the need to take back our power
Because if we don't,
Someone else will,
Tell us
What to wear,
How to heal,
**** our souls until we cant feel,
Leaving us empty
Alone and afraid
Only to arrest us for a feminist parade.
I love being a woman
But my heart is in pain,
I find solace in the depths of a woman,
So I know i'll remain...

"Pigeon droppings cited in bridge collapse"
                             —Toronto Star

Behold the ***** birds that felled a bridge
Of concrete, iron, and steel routinely made,
Dropping by dropping, pigeon after pige-
on adding contributions grossly laid.
An engineering feat commercial grade,
The bridge could not withstand the pigeon poo,
And, from the scourge of filth, the bridge decayed,
And fell as all decaying things will doo.
(When not creating mayhem, pigeons coo
And congregate and caper in the park,
Returning to their nests—tu-whit tu-whoo—
Before the owl can hunt them in the dark.)  
And so we see the danger we permit
When pigeons are allowed to give a ****.

You thought he was beautiful?

                     Maybe so.

Yet he weeps when he looks in the mirror,
much like an old willow…

Grasping at the earth with
Cracked and tethered vines
With
Anger and sorrow
With
Insecurities drowning his roots

He wonders what the sky looks like,
While he’s forced to
watch himself grow down

He thinks “it must be beautiful”
Maybe so.

Thanks, you said
For being an ally
You meant well
But I felt invisible

My marriage status
Plain, vanilla clothes
And natural appearance
Fueled your assumptions

This Pride month
Must I don rainbows
Or shave my head
To gain acceptance?

When will diversity
Be so universal
That I can truly be myself
Without being mislabeled?

I don’t identify as anything but ME
If you need a definition use a dictionary
But for some people, life is about
more than gender, ***, and sexuality