"Having a Coke with You,"

I thought I had fallen in love with the protagonist of "Beastly"

but really the works of Frank O'Hara made my heart swoon,

the poem soon became an embedded memory.

The composition notebook mandatory for class,

soon became mandatory to flush my thoughts out.

I wrote about everything from bitter tears from sadness,

to writing down the morsels of the dark I wish I could scream about.

I stood in front of the class and finished with the words:

"which is why I am telling you about it."

It was as if I had plucked feathers off a bird,

because telling that secret seemed like a painful regret.

I could be anyone I wished to be;

but I chose to write the truth.

From not feeling close to free,

To wishing I was drunk from vermouth.

My world is perfect with a notebook and pen,

until someone looks over my shoulder,

I wrap my things up and write "the end,"

so I can get rid of the weight of the boulder.

To me though, it makes me feel invincible,-

writing about the world's politcal corruption:

that you can just keep in the pages that are torn, but fixable.

It can stay hidden (even during an eruption.)

Most of all-

It has lead me to my true identity;

a vibrant flower of a wall,

with gushing curious-creativity.