Odd little child there is no need to worry. The soulful won’t fuss at your whimsical scurry . The good ones will covet and learn from your flurry.
Your chaos or kink may scare some away, but the lovers, the poets, the true ones will stay. Just stay fully alive, let your true genius play.
With your freaky flag swinging high-up as your chin, write poems with chocolate in bathtubs of gin. Chant loud as you jive to your own sacred hymns, beneath disco balls that flicker with sin.
No matter how wild, how ridiculous, or obscene, create from your gut and tell others your scheme. For mavericks and moguls your wacky is keen. It heals us, it grows us, it helps wrongs be seen.
Absurd little girl with that courageous, good heart, please mother your messy and don’t sensor your spark.
