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.