My Dear Woman

The hunger within She spoiled herself with fame and insecurity But when its stripped its empty. No its not promiscuity. Its a lackthereof. The list goes on For men of meantime shelters For boys of tussled sheets and misdemeanor Even when she’s not looking, it comes to her Guilt is her misfire. Regret’s her token Being sought after a crooked star She has not become amassed A beautiful broken thing with a destructive nature Dear Woman, nobody’s ever in favor. The new things she chased.. Kept her running back home with another broken piece It will never fit. It Never heals She is out of control. Never had a heart of steel. She is lost but still wandering. She looks for her when she has always been herself all along. Now she wakes up gazing. She have grasp acceptance, fear and life Then she will go on... and start again.