Forgive thee for thy lack of love
questioning the divinity of such power above.
With verse do I blaspheme such spirituality
prevalent within thy dream.
Must I use this skill of mine to shed
words to be approved by a certain kind.
Shall I hurl words only thought about and
place them on the page, no shadow of a doubt.
See miracles yet to flow thy pen from
the mind of an old maid, labeled old hen.
Wisdom shackled, now spirituality freed,
I'll spill my guts as I shed your seed.
Written by: Melvina Germain
Date: Sept.30/2015
Time 3: 10am
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, the three in the morning spilling of soul via ink. It is only one now, but I am not done for the night either.: -)