She's merely a woman holding a pen, with no idea what to write.

Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.
She's merely a woman holding a pen, with no idea what to write.
A woman alone, who'll protect her? She'll be too exposed, too peculiar, too public.
A woman of such strangeness has a touch of brilliance never divulged.
The pain accompanied by rage - a woman humiliated.
I have fought and conquered the dark alone. I feel I am a dangerous woman.
Beneath the pain was a woman who could write like that.
She loved him for making her feel beautiful and the feeling of being wanted as a woman.
I shall explain her frenzied anxiety in this: the woman was married.
How can he leave her? Women: he seemed to run from them - was he to blame, he like most men, believe loving a woman eternally isn't compatable and already it is tomorrow.
I am strong, and I must respect that practical balance unique to the conflict of a woman, delicate and feminine.