Words can be bittersweet

Like watching rain from the window seat.

They remind me of some better times 

But a lot of poetry is reading between the lines, 

Because poetry makes as much sense as a midnight sunrise.

I can tell you the hell I’ve endured;

Show you the scars of my past if you prefer.

To find comfort in a word or phrase 

Thats warmer than a cup of tea on Sundays,

Because poetry makes as much sense as 366 days.

Are others out there feeling the same? 

Not excepting the world to fit into a picture perfect frame? 

It would eat me alive if no one understood 

The scribbles on my paper about growing into adulthood

Because poetry makes as much sense as torched firewood. 

I cant say why I write what I do, 

But I can say it holds me together like imaginary glue. 

It fills the empty seams, 

Like nuts and bolts in a mechanical machine 

Because poetry makes as much sense as 21st century teens.

Writing it down connects every thought in my head

Allows me to forgive the boy that was a real dickhead.

And I can breathe in deep without my head tempting to collapse in,

the ink sets and everyone can read me from within 

Because poetry makes as much sense as a cage made of safety pins. 

Those safety pins,

21st century teens,

Torched firewood,

And 366 days

All make sense to me when I’m reading and writing poetry.