My poetry
I write with heart and not desire
Yet people call me a liar
I write to hold back the black of night
Yet people think me the enemy of light
I write and express myself in a song
Yet people call my love ‘wrong’
I write to shed light on the truth
Yet people say they need proper proof
I write to make the hated feel love
Yet people insist on push and shove
I write to be one with the poor
Yet people point me to the door
I write the dance of life and death
Yet people say I am Macbeth.