Not tainted by horrors of being
She wonders what marvels come next
Not challenged by thoughts of bland feelings
That lead to no content of text

A notebook and pencil inactive
Vivacious ingenious not bright
She wonders if pain deems attractive
For then she’d have something to write

But what if true poverty held her
Restraining her goals and large dreams
Or night of the murder to recur
Still haunted by blood so to seem

Or maybe her racist thoughts triumph
Beyond hope of innocent lives
Rejecting, revolting, refusing
Like lying and envious wives

Perchance her own mental existence
Was prison inside her own mind
Mouth taped there’s no passive resistance
Her freedom of speech left behind

Beginning a war could be painless
That Helen of Troy would agree
Or genocide nothing left stainless
The world left a ruined debris

So maybe if tossing through pages
Left blank with no story to write
Would save her from facing the ages
It best be left empty in fright