Empty page and the space isn't going to fill itself, plus I know too many thoughts with no outlet is bad for my health but it's so hard nowadays trying to express how I feel, wandering through life trying to separate what's fake and what's real

because it seems that what's fake is now acceptable to replace the latter, portraying only a cracked mirror but in reality it is shattered by the insecurities of life like how we should think or dress, apparently to be ones own person means your life is surely a mess but somehow I am both the mess and the broom, picking myself up as I write these lines for you thinking of what it takes to be true.

For a poet is simply recording observations of the things that appear blue but somehow still bring joy and life to you as if you never knew that you could be real too.

Yeah real as a heart attack when I say that poetry has saved my life. It somehow brought me tranquility when all I could see around me was strife, as if putting the words on the page would get me through the night because if not I was haunted by the direction of my life.

So blessed but so distressed, refusing to eat and losing my sleep I was so depressed, caught up in this how to be an adult mess and claiming I couldn't write because I was so stressed,

but at every breaking point the tears would flow right along with the ink as the pages filled with all of the thoughts I could think.

Thoughts like love, compassion, nature, and the dark secrets that I kept, writing about better times or places as I may have cried or wept, but only about real things because a poets words could never be fake, it is something you feel, it could be any emotion happy or irrate.

Poetry both is calmer than the still waters that run deep yet more aggressive than the oppression of the strong on the weak, somehow assertive yet meek.

So I guess I write because of this balance that I try to  keep, the thoughts of my heart right in sync with those of my brain. Speaking out on issues that are cruel or inhumane, providing a new perspective so the peace we can attain but I didn't know what this inner peace was that was scarcely found anywhere but now I know that peace is poetry, I see it in my articles I share. 

It is the soft breeze you will feel on your soul connecting you with all things beauty, it is an escape from yourself when you are sad or moody, it is a representation of the many things never said, it is a placid way to organize the thoughts in your head.

It is poetry, it's a wish upon a star. It is poetry, it's the reason I've made it thus far.