I write my own future;
I’m no novelist’s creation.
I control all the outcomes,
in my exclusive narration.

Too long have I been love stained,
needing to be pure once more.
Who knows how many opportunities
were left waiting by the door.

I had failed as a writer,
but now I’m back for revenge.
My pen knows what’s best,
pushing sadness off a ledge.

No longer will I be
a damsel in distress,
but now a fair maiden
putting suitors to the test.

I write my own future;
I’m no novelist’s conspiracy.
From now on my outcomes
will consist only of prosperity.

Check out more of my poetry here.