To Sylvia
She described the man with a Meinkampf look,
she wrote the famous ‘I am, I am, I am’ book.
She understood what it was to be in love with her sadness
She understood my broken heart, my mind and my madness.
She turned her demons into words like no one else could.
And she understood that pain better than anyone should.
I heard what she wrote and I knew we felt the same.
Perhaps you have guessed her face and her name?
I hope she is at peace and that voice is now silent,
I hope her heart and mind are no longer violent.
She no longer feels pain so let her be still.
And although Sylvia died, her words never will.