"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood"-- The line that signifies the start Of a poem only Mr. Frost could And my budding love for the art. Writing soon found a place in my heart A way to show thoughts simple and grand, From reviewing chicken tacos a la carte To who should control the Holy Land.  Emotions are freed with flicks of the hand Typing, penning, and jotting them down; Words are the key that pries emotions out  Revealing thoughts that make up the frown. How I express myself isn't the same since I found a hobby that "made all the difference."