All my life I had been called imaginative. My parents, relatives, friends, teachers and many others always found my methods of description and such slightly peculiar. I never knew how to capture all the flittering thoughts I had and express them to those willing to listen. That is until I found a net made specifically for thoughts with wonderfully soaring wings.

The earliest time I can remember being introduced to poetry was in the fourth grade. I may have met or seen the fantastical art form earlier but I became educated on most forms that year. We were assigned to writing a book that included all types of literature we learned that year, poetry included. The second my small hands gripped the pen and set it to the paper words flew from my fingertips in rivers and streams.

I have long since gone through countless notebooks, journals, and diaries trying to form my thoughts into coherent sentences or otherwise. Some seem to struggle with the concept of poetry or literature in general but my love for books allowed me to grasp the concept easily.

Words have always been my escape but with poetry they became my tool. They became the microphone I could use when my vocal chords or mouth failed me. The world became a place that was easier to bear when I wrote. I still drift into my imagination from time to time, but poetry has helped me connect my mind with reality.