Poetry, rhythmical composition

Poetry, written or spoken

Poetry, thoughts emphasizing life through beautiful imaginative work

 

I was poetry, when I was first born, the first cry the doctors heard the first breath of earthly air with the start of the pin touching these papers

The first goo, the first word, the first step all accounted for in these poems I write

 

My life, my stories put into stanzas ordered chronologically, trying not miss a single detail of my beautiful life

 

Sometimes life was still like the dramatic pauses I took during poetry slams, and just like poetry flows life kept on going so I kept on writing

 

Situations that left me stuck presented writer's block like my life and poetry are parallel dimensions

 

I was stuck for two years, two years without a pen in my hand, I had difficulty expressing myself my words weren't clear I started rambling and aimlessly wandering trying to find the words to write on these blank sheets

 

Parents and people who I considered friends couldn't understand my plight

I was leaving literal tears in my notebook holding back my stories

 

I couldn't find anyone to console to, nobody had my back and even at times I felt God himself had left me and removed my poetic talent not even realizing that my talent was for more than telling stories that entertained and kept people happy because to me stories always had happy endings

 

Those years of my life were not a fairytale, so I stopped writing poetry unaware that poetry and storing telling even though relatable are very different

 

Stories are fictional narrative to amuse and keep one distracted from reality and I wasn't using my talent properly

 

Those tears on my notebook left accounts untold even though brutal they needed to be unfolded they needed to be spoken

 

I start swiftly writing over this paper hardened from my liquid distress my time of writer's block became a thing to write about and those two years that mocked me were created into artistic verses

 

No one can ever be as open with me like this poetry book I'm writing in, it can’t lie or tell your secrets unless given permission

The poetry becomes your best friend and that book it is written in documents the special bond which brings you closer

The symphonic language not understood by anyone else, you two share together, you become one that's why poetry is me