Poetry is and has always been a friend

Sometimes I feel though, it will come to an end

My thoughts are abundant and plenty to hear

But when I see other words, I begin to have fear

Are my thoughts good enough? Do I have what it takes?

With poetry comes art but there are always mistakes

Sylvia Plath comes to mind when I think of my words

Her thoughts form to my soul like a nest to a bird

When I begin to read about her life more and more

I saw that her mind was a window but her soul was a door

It was open to all and when I begin to unlock

I saw all of her flaws but knew my mind would unblock

She started my passion for expressing myself 

She made me get into great poets that filled my bookshelf

The passion she had, although it was sad, helped me see that 

my words are important, not bad

Sometimes my thoughts will leave me, and sometimes it will mend

But one thing that should always be remembered

Poetry has and will always be a friend