I have my poetry for the soul,
A warm cup of tea I just poured into a bowl.
I call it life, to stir in my number one goal,
To sip it sure, every last drop everlasting pure.
It's such a bittersweet tasting moment.
While enjoyable too, that warm sensation giving me a clue,
About what's up ahead is only the positive things,
No matter what other people have said.
Because either way I'm taking that last piece of pie,
And I am going to enjoy it, while you make your last sigh.
Not realizing that I have the sweettooth for perfection,
I plan my life out and divide it in different sections.
For some they'll never understand,
But my poetry for the soul gives my mind the upper hand.