Her Fate Poem by Boitumelo Oliphant

Diagonal to my reaction is the opposed voluntary knighting often induced by the arming of contemporary deities.
Be heading my vertical temperance down folding destiny, I realise that my mushy ditsy is lying at sight with the damned.
Chased by what seems fate she falls into agony and lashes out as she embraces an ambush sought.
Her world is shadowed by a daisy skillet thought to haunt the undiscerning. To rescue is a bypass only saddened to interplay the corners of time.
It remains a Mistry how she dove in and out the bosom of distress in a blink’s watch.
I witness at arm’s length the distance of rhetoric shackles aroused in her presence, she pursues vividly her image’s fate without a cocas in her Meta.
She is strong, she is courageous and with her big throat she swallows the earth’s dwellings.