~ Dirty Laundry ~
They told me I couldn't, shouldn't write.
To express myself, would be a crime. I sense the fear, everytime.
I lift up my pencil & start to write.
"What might she say" "what might she tell"
So they accuse & ridicule.
"Airing your dirty laundry ain't wise".
Hoping I'll crawl away & hide.
When my pen is my sword.
My weapon to fight, write I must, write I will.
My freedom. My expression.
Wrap up my diaries, throw away my pens.
Switch off my mind. Bind up my heart.
That flounders, if not through ink.
You tell me to "shush" but I won't shut up.
What I will say - Be careful when throwing darts at a writer.
She'll turn them into pencils with her sharpener.
Making songs of wrongs. Psalms from pains.
Symphonies from memories. Many just throw away. ✏✏✏
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