Lindie Heeralall

What I really want to say is
‘Buy my fucking book!’
Not say, shout.
Its got words and a cover
Pages, chapters, look

I shout in the face of the world in unbridled fury
Spittle shooting from between my teeth 
I don’t need no Amazon jury
I need some self-belief

Yanked from a world of creativity
Where authenticity is a requirement
And peace, the preferred environment
Where the only voice is mine
I engage with my subconscious mind

I don’t think it’s about the money
When you borrow on unlimited 
And I am getting pittance
I’m still really fucking happy

You acknowledged my existence
You looked me straight in the eye
You answered the phone
Passed me in the street and said 'Hi.'

I'm trying to be heard
Raising my voice slightly
And then a little more
Enunciate exaggeratedly
Until I am screaming
Fucking listen!

I want to talk to you
I want to tell you a story
It comes from my heart
But even I am not sure
How to tell it’s truth and lies apart

But I do know that I meant it
That I sat with those people
And they live in me
Not invented

And now, for the love of Mike,
Just ‘BUY MY FUCKING BOOK!’
And click Like

It is called The Tobacco Child
I hear it is not mild
I never said I could rhyme
Though my favourite fruit is lime

So have I put you off
And do I hear a scoff
As you block me from your site
Saying: ‘She’s just not right.’

In the head to be swearing
Demanding my attention
I will not buy that fucking book
Not even with my pension

I just lost my one follower
Somebody burn my laptop
And my self-respect
I think I heard the mic drop
Boom.