My Poetry
I look to writing,
to poetry,
as an escape
from the miserable feelings
I have of myself,
my life, and everything.
When I'm troubled by problems-
a lost love
or a missing friendship,
a bad habit
or a bad day-
my heart swells with emotion.
My tiny beating heart
takes in what I always hide;
it overflows
and I'm forced to spill out,
pour out such emotions
on the one thing
that always takes it in:
paper...
resulting in what one might call
poetry,
or trash.
Either way, the purpose is fulfilled
and I feel better.
But what about my audience?
I often wonder what it is
they think of me,
who I am
and what I'm going through.
My "closest" friends
will never know what YOU,
my reader,
reads in my poetry
about my deepest thoughts
and distressing feelings.
But when I look back at my writing
it's always one sided.
I'm often only moved to write
in lonesome, unhappy times;
I wish I could give you something
for all the days I smile.
It's funny...
when I think of what
I hide from my friends
and what I share with strangers
and the other side of my life
that they both don't see,
I come to a sad,
sad reality
that no one in this world
really knows me
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