nobody really understands how I feel to be. I have lost all ambition. I only see the pointlessness, yet I struggle with my conscience, over how to spend my time, to give my life for the reprieve of so many lives: Is it wise to fight the nature of the beast? or should I lay low roll with the flow and watch all the clowns on the street trying to prove something to themselves, hell is where I feel I'll see them next time around when again I'm writing something like this. Women shall feel sorrow 10 times more deeply. What have I done previously to come back in a world where speaking is a struggle for the kind of gal I am, where I'm silenced by circumstance, not chance, I'm bound in chains made of my own body, but was the judgment just, I never chose to be born into breasts I don't envy the power men store in their pants, and I don't hold it against them no, I just don't trust ïem. It's about freedom. It's about me. How can I change the world when I myself am locked away.
