Some people buy those books,
That are found at those stores.
The books are hidden in nooks,
And in cracks in the floors.
Their feelings are displayed in the journal,
Because they don't want anyone to see.
Their thoughts are preserved there, eternal;
Expressed in the book, and feelings set free.
But I myself have a different way
To show how I'm feeling at the time.
I have my own way of how to say
What I'm thinking: in a rhyme.
I started rhyming for a class
Because it was a grade
But then when time came to pass
My poetry did not fade.
I write now because it's fun;
I write now because I want to.
I write and write until I'm done,
And I see a poem brand new.
The words in front of me are mine
And sometimes I feel worn out
But even though I'm tired, I don't whine:
It's a good-tired, so I don't pout.
My feelings are written in rhyme
And I keep on writing them
Because I know that over time
I'll value my poems like gems
So next time you are mad
Or hopefully, you're okay,
Don't just mope and be sad,
Instead, express your feelings in this way.