Her Name Is She Poem by Ibn Ali

Her name is she
She that I adore
When I find that I can't sleep she haunts me
When I'm chastised dont search, just know it's her that taunted
I used to think that wealth was fortune
Until she went and left me poor
Sins so long past still so important
I can't feel secure
I fear she'll read the sorrow of my words
The first stanza and the last
Each page she peels like clothes
My modesty unveiled
Till I stand bare in front of her, disrobed
Poets are a people of the past
Please don't laugh
Worn wedding dresses sold warn of failure of her's before that wore
We buy to barter happiness
Ignore the lessons taught
You'll always have your fair share of adoration
Looking how you look
Sounding how you sound
You'll never fail to find yourself a clown