They gossip, they glare,
Throw shade like it's free,
But I sip my tea,
With my legs on the settee.
They said I'm too bold,
Too broken, too loudβ
Yet still they stalk me,
Hidden in the crowd.
I bake, I paint,
I sculpt divineβ
While they scroll and drool,
Wishing it was mine.
You say I'm cursed?
Nah, I'm cosmic, not cursedβ
The universe tests diamonds,
That's why I'm rehearsed.
So hate all you want,
It adds spice to my poems & talesβ
But I rise every time,
With grace that won't fail.
By: - WIN VENTURA
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem