‘Whom,

O’ speaker of my words,

we seek the wandering star.

In the twelfth night we fall

as you rise with hopeless scar.

Her world, allay, from

misunderstood passion we sought.  

For I had to fight my blood off my hands

I had no fraught when I fought.

They are neither man nor woman,

to as I felt my spirit rising with my soul.

For I want,

for I have to be,

for I shall be the one whom is whole.

Who listens when I plea,

who listens when I cry,

whom is my emotion that I want to be.


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With much love & inspiration written by me,

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