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