In reality, I wished I could write every woman I meet a love poem, yet the opportunity is afforded so rarely and with me, only when deserved. I write anti-terrorism poetry from time to time, and you never know when something you write or say will be blowing up in your face, yet it is with love poetry that I suffered the most severe and harsh penalties, not to mention accusations. It really does make me want to put the pen down permanently, but while I cry my eyes out, I guess I still have the pen in my hands and poke out what my eyes see as offensive, as it is by sheer spirit that I continue to write.

The feelings that I suffer stem from the poem that I wrote before this one, as I honestly had the best of intentions, but they only seemed to assign me their pervert invention. It still hurts...

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