To feel in moderation

I could never endure

With a heart so pure

Experienced it all in full

The bird that sings outside my window

How light it makes the soul feel

Innocent even

The man on the side of the street

I suffer & punish myself on his poverty stricken behalf

I am him

But somehow also me

The contents of my soul is a perpetual war between light and dark

I don’t know the opposing forces, not truly

Foreign invaders

Neither of which I’d like a thing to do with

I am but a mere geographical battleground on which they have violently chosen to demand their own way

I feel everything

or nothing

Reality is bitter

Fantasy is charming

The reality of my fantasy being fiction is complete devastation

Rebellion & indulgence tempt me

Should I be less of a woman for it

Less of a good woman, rather

Surely I am entitled to be myself



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