All I wanted to do was write

But in a world of hate

I could barely get a sentence out

My aesthetics betrayed me

Being colored, being a women

all a "metaphysical dilemma I have not conquered yet"

So I write,

To the beat of a drum

A scattered tempo

And I have to keep up

My words trapped behind a pen

Trying to formulate words my mouth never could

I started writing poetry because it was the only way people could hear me.