WHAT SHE THINKS OF ME

My gentle soul

Be wild in the eyes of hers, 

my sweet laughter 

A roar to her hearing, 

A smile from my cheeks

To be welcomed with a frown, 

A decent me

a whore to her

My tiresome poise

my laziness in her view

Scolding my siblings 

An outrageous act of mine. 
Of no good I am

Of little gain I’ve become

I feel taunted by her words

But my tongue is twisted

And I’m dying of silence

Friends and folks

Detest my company

For I’ve been painted black

And my presence is a curse. 

So lonely I have become 

Tears are nowhere to be found

My lachrymal lake dry like a desert 

Pondering my daily chores 

For the stigma she has given me

The witch with no wings

People would laugh while they call me. 

I’d want to go far away

Where no sapien knows my name

And feel the scorching sun

And the billowing wind

And let the rain wash my tears away

For my heart has been chewed like a bone. 

A better me coming up

For I’ll ignore the pain

And make a gain
For I’ll tell the world

My sorrow and sore

None should be like me

The one with the twisted tongue 

What she thinks of me

Shouldn’t be me

What she thinks of me

Is only a criticism of me

I am better than criticism 

I hold a place, I have a stand

So what she thinks of me

Is not me!