A Friend and a Cousin

A friend and a cousin.

Both dead.

And that’s why I started writing.

 

My counselor at my elementary school suggested it.

I was an emotional fifth grader,

                with a lot on their mind.

I wasn’t concerned about a ABAB pattern,

                or any pattern.

I never have been,

                and I never will be.

 

My poems don’t rhyme.

                They aren’t stylistic.

                It’s free verse,

                                and it’s freeing.

 

Poetry is there for me when I feel like no one else can be.

It is my escape for it does judge me.

It takes my thoughts,

my emotions,

and holds them in a sacred place.

 

It will not show anyone what I have entrusted it with unless I say it’s okay.

It understands that sometimes,

today is not the day to be personable.

Poetry allows me to take my life experiences and express it…

Without ever having to tell a soul.

 

Poetry is my escape when I want to hide my tears and my pain.

It is my friend when I want to express my joy.

It is always there for me.

 

And to think it all started because of a friend and a cousin.

This poem is about: 
Me

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