Zayra Is the Key

Zebra. Not zeal or zoom or zygote (at least not anymore) nor, god forbid, zyzzyva. Zebra because you don't know if I an white with black stripes or black with white stripes. But you do know whenever I run I'm high on euphoria.

Accquire. Because I think when you are born you start from zero and climb higher. The knowledge, experience, religion isn't something predetermined. Whoever says otherwise is a liar.

Yield. You must know when to be a stubborn mule who fights fiercely in the fields. At other times, you must acknowledge your mistakes and not use pride as a shield.

Rejoice. Because I am acutely aware of everything I have is not my choice. I could have easily been born without a hand to draw or without sight to admire the wonder of a butterfly out of its cocoon or a diligent bee making its viscous juice.

Arsenal. Aye, another A. My arsenal is packed with high caliber guns with nasty insults and twisted mind games. There are several grenades that make insecurity and distrust explode within the enemy even if it's not right morally.

What, you expected the perfect acrostic poem from me?
I can't write flowers and sunshine because I don't bow down to society.
I feel you taken aback because you know you want me to be free
Yet you also want to feel merry
Joyful, amused, and with pixie dust like a fairy.
Thinking of making a decree? should stop reading from here.
Think of it...a mere word...Zayra.
You want me to bare out my soul in this poem...Zayra is the key.

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