It is the curve of the ink on a page that forms a word

With more strokes and curves come more words

Constructing a continuous stream that connects together a notion

One believed by the hand holding the pen

My faith is one considered to be taboo

An abstract analogy in the current England era

Compelling me to create a culture of community

To express the possibilities of the nation

Our most crucial asset in life is women

They possess the essential skills for thriving

Holding much more than just wombs in their bodies

But affection and tenderness make up the whole of their hearts

I’ve embedded this theme into all of my pieces

Stitched into the fibers that make up the ink

My feminism bathing in the sunlight

As rays hit the pages of fictional stories

No longer shall I cower from the talk of the disapproving 

That dare speak on notions they do not know

Moments they have never experienced

And will forever remain unaware of the presence of others

God has not heard the passing comments of men

May He exist, though my own mind doubts

Oblivious will He be to the struggles of his creations

So we must be the ones to hold our weight

Did the mothers of my blood think this?

Has it only been me to have this passion

For the women that wander by me?

Will there be more of me to walk this earth?

I have nothing to reason my queries with

Yet I continue to entertain these thoughts

Pouring them into my pen while letting others feel

What they believed to be an original emotion

Should I inspire the readers soon turned writers

Give them the delights of different ideals 

Gain many friends and partners

To converse about our tastes in men

I have decided I am not long for this world

A writer with nothing new

Is an out-of-tune piano trying to play it’s melody

And I shall not reduce my title to only be a wife