If poetry is born of pains,
It's no guess I write again.
He won't accept me as I am,
My heart cracks in this sham.
A burning throat coughs, it sputters,
Bound by fear, Is he worth the tears?
I yearn to be my very own,
So off I set my heart lets go.
These chosen words find my chains,
Freedom converts me,
oh, sweet joyous strains.
(*revised, 2013)
