Warrior Unsheathed

"O, Lord, make my enemies ridiculous. And God granted it. . . Voltaire I grew up Ojibwe in a pure white world, my long black hair was straight and never curled; and I was bullied bad, inside it made me mad! Then one day I unsheathed my sharp sword, all the hurt and the sadness within poured; this brave warrior would not be ignored! My rapier bloody, I had not one buddy; my time was all study. There was no time to wallow in pity, it was a bloodstained battle not pretty; my only friend was with a black kitty. Yes, I grew up Ojibwe in a pure white world. My soul became blood-soaked from the fierce war, the haters returning again for more; I knew how to evade, and to parry my blade! The bullies were relentless and savage, my true essence they wanted to ravage; I waded a brutal battle to salvage, this shy Objibwe girl. On pages of white my words twirl, with my sword pen words I swirl; you see, I studied hard and my sword is words, I thrust them out but they fly away birds. A pen was the weapon I used on those nerds! Still, my soul is blood-soaked from that fierce war. A quote by Micky Mantle "A gang is where a coward goes to hide." ________________________________ September 15, 2018 Poetry/Rhyme/Unsheathe Your Sword Copyright Protected, ID 18-4538-0915-01 All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.