There were two William sisters.

One’s dead, and the other married.

So now there’s none! 

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Get Up!

If you stumble and fall,

do not let the dirt hug you

do not let it lull you

with its false sense of comfort.

Hypnotize you 

with its warmth.

For when you come to

it will be too late.

The blood already seeped

into the earth’s bowels.

The wounds already healed

leaving behind grotesque scars

and patterns.

On your being 

And your soul

It will be too late.

Your friends will forget 

Your enemies  will triumph

All the while 

you lay on the ground

wallowing in self pity!

So get up! Run!

Walk! Limp! Drag yourself!

heave not a sigh of relief 

Until,you reach the finish line

Until you hear victory’s bugle 

For not trying 

is a far greater loss

than losing itself !


Daughter not a Son 

Wear a skirt!

Walk don’t run! 

Let not your eyes flirt

You’re a daughter not a son.

Remember your place,

In the kitchen of course!

Make pretty your face 

Use words, not force.

Learn the arts,

not mathematics!
Open your hearts

Don’t be pragmatics 
Beware of fun!

You’re a daughter not a son.