The Promise of Poetry
All alone, hiding in the corner
The party's on fire, the music has started
I want to fit in, I'm desperate
But I know the cause is helpless.
I don't fit in with the crowd
No, I very much stand out
Got the reputation of 'weird'
Of 'quiet', 'strange', and 'scared.'
So I stay with a pen
Watching each interaction
Writing what I see
Wishing it could be me.
I keep the pen moving,
The words consuming
The blue ink dancing,
It's so enchanting.
The poems pull me in
Starting a fire within
Settling over me
Gentle and warming.
The party may come to an end
And I still might not have a friend
But at least I have my art
My poems, the pieces of my heart.