Sometimes I would like to believe
That those feelings were true.
A part of me tries to retrieve
The memories that I had seeped through.
As I fiercely rummage through the past,
I pick up shattered fragments
Of short-lived moments that I have amassed
Into a mirage of hopeless excitements;
For once being the love-stricken Juliet
And unknowingly flinging my heart
Towards a Romeo whose knife he whets
To tear her transient dreams apart.
Yet, little did he know that that delicate Juliet
Would weave from those shreds a heart,
Indomitable in the face of many threats,
For she has become the female Bonaparte;
Who will not be satisfied to settle for less,
And instead will strive to gain
What I deserve, and for that I shall egress
The love which left many insane.
And here before the world I stand
To declare my victory
In achieving what many perceive as grand
Starting with my own liberty;
From love, and anything that holds me down
From soaring with my dream
Starting with my pen, which I hold like a crown
Over my head, of my own heart, a Queen.
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