My land...my forest...my autonomy
A displayed aversion for all to see
Belittle me to but my curse
Bequeathed unto me like an endless thirst

Bizarre, I seem;; yes, it is true
That I am not so blithe as you
So to the heavens, I scream bombastic
Words...to buffoons, sound fantastic
Birds flutter from their caches, screaming
Of the nightmares heard when dreaming

Lo siento, I'll hush;; no need to scoff.

...

Italics is poem, non-italics is just her speaking normal.

I hid my first 10 vocabulary words in the poem I'm amazed I was able to put them all into my poem, and have them make sense. Except that buffoon was a pain to word in.

Yes.

I was bored.

Very. Very bored.