I just had this idea while sorting out some old writings, so I am posting it one time, also it is inspired by Maya Angelou' s Still I Rise
The enemy of poectic existence found me
They've amputated my hands
Fractured my mouth by ripping out my tongue
Drained the blood from within my soul
They left me for dead, but life has not given up on me
They vacuumed my sobriety
Pulled my thoughts from my mental fountain
They punctured the baloon where my muse floats
Killed my muse by electricution
Burnt all my existing material
Threatened my life
If I were to write any more
Killed my mother and father
Ripped my gonads
Burnt my eyes
Ruptured my earbells
But yet Still I write
For the Truth must be told.
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