The Meaning
The best remedy for me has always been poetry
A diary of memories started out as paragraphs
Picking up rhythm and rhym as my soul quickens
Hands grasps tighter to keep up as my mind as my mind sleeps
For once I feel my soul is to keep
Poetry's the only thing that slows down my mentality
Or rather my intellectual chatter
Not to mean that intellect's bad
But with too much I'm stuck thinking of the shoulda, coulda, wouldas
The wave I flow on when my soul speaks
doesn't need success or a physical goal
All that counts is the fulfillment from genuine expression
No judgement or hurt, devaluing of worth
I'm already too used to that
That's not me
It's what I'm taught I'm supposed to have in me towards me and my own reality
But poetry guides me, directs me, makes me feel naturally
Puts me in line with my third eye so I can see
It teache me about life
that the twists are just a part of my experience
Those twist fan the flame of inspiration to light the dark on my road
Illuminate the dows and crevices of me that don't understand
Keep coming through my hands in that way that makes me understand the meaning