What It Does to Me

A way of expressing my thoughts

 without getting caught

A way of taking my anger

and letting it rot.

A way of soaring above the world 

 while letting happiness unfurl.

Poetry isn't a hobby; in reality,

it's more like a part of me.

A me that is beautiful

and sings with a pure soul,

 and dances on clouds

 and wears beads of gold.

A way of taking flight in the middle of the night...

That is why I write, in a fight for my life.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741