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no more
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Poetry To ache is to feel, if only a little,
If only a little, I still love,
Though often guile, you still think,
You still think I'll meekly be shoved.
Though madness suits you, you're still sane,
Still sane is far from my thoughts,
Far from me, where you will be,
You will be a disease I've not caught.
The language of solitude that only I speak,
I only speak to choose my path,
The path of a woman, too torn to scream,
A scream that would encompass my wrath.
Strong is your way, as is your will,
Your will is fiercely red,
Red as blood, so I've been told,
I've been told that no more will be shed.
To live is to learn, and learn I have,
I have learned you're barely a man,
Men, and still they treat me so,
So this is where this ends.
