Poetry is an open letter that I never mean to send.

Poetry is the escape that keeps my family from its end.

It keeps my anger from building into a skyscraper, 

and it keeps my heart from bleeding on my sleeve.

It describes artfully all of autumn’s leaves.

Poetry is emotions turned into words on paper.

I learned it first many years ago,

but didn’t think it necessary until life made it so.

I didn’t care then- and I hardly care now-

but then I had to learn to keep my mouth shut,

unless I wanted to spend the rest of the night in a row.

Because I’ll never win the argument.

Back talk is insubordinate.

So I turn back to my poetry book,

and no one noticed that my shoulders shook.

Poetry means a sanctuary:

even when emotions are arbitrary.

Poetry is a safety net.

Life is a free for all with smiles and frowns.

Poetry is an anchor that keeps me from sinking down.

Poetry is emotions described well on paper.