FROM THE CABINETS OF CASSANDRA TULIPS

1) There is a piece of poem that I always carry within myself and not write about ,
And that is about how I regularly choose to scribble over, 

rather than incsing 16 tridents across my ankle .

2) The inconveniences of my friends and conveniences of my foes to speak ill about me make me bleed  the anti- written context  of my future legacy.

3) The nutritional diplomacy I articulate when my heart breaks,
Says starvation is necessary to immaculate my Tragedy.

4) Can I pin a poem about the potential I lost to act like a human  sanity ,
Rather than being human, genuinely?

5) It's the era of unfathomable grief,
And I got endurance to rescue me,
But can I rescue my eternal vulnerability ?
So I can silently dig deep, fleeting shadows for my suffering soul's  infertility.

Leeza