It's hard to write a poem,

When emotions are tied up,

It's hard to really deal with life

While you're fired up,

I will start to write a something,

But I will then lose the thought,

Or sometimes it will be because,

I haven't the time i'd ought.

I have come to find my happy place,

And come to get away,

But when I begin to think again,

My poem goes awry,

My utinsil moves like crazy,

And the words begin to cry.

Beauty runs down the paper,

My poem is complete,

And when I come back to reality,

I always press delete.

I don't want to express myself,

for fear of being unmasked,

But should I ever choose to tell you,

Here is what you ask;

"How does this complete you?"

And I shall speak the truth.

I will always tell you,

"It brings me back to my youth."