Never can a sentence be clear and honest,

Without punctuation.

Punctuation is the guide of the sentence, the reader’s compass.

It reveals the writer’s plan, aiding communication.

 

Sometimes the reader’s bubble is bust,

When punctuation teaches without implication.

There it is on the page, saying, “Look at this, you must.”

“You can’t ignore the truth: the statement, the inquiry, the exclamation.”

 

I am punctuation.

I, into this messy world, am thrust.

To make some sense of it, to be liberation,

For the ink-smeared lessons, awaiting learner’s lust.

 

I am punctuation.

I am here to harness

At least one true, loving revelation.

And give it to the world through my pen, without jest.

 

I am punctuation.

Sometimes the world’s bubble I bust,

When I teach what I see without implication.

I see the sick, the poor, the lonely, and say, “Look at us, you must.”

I am steadfast, curious, and emotional. I am a statement, an inquiry, an exclamation.

 

My mom taught me to be an ellipses, to see struggles as life’s continuation.

My dad taught me to be a period, to end any run-on of disgust.

My hospital stay taught me to be an exclamation point, to express worry and anticipation.

My Judases taught me to be a question mark, to question the people I can’t always trust.

 

I am punctuation.

I am here on the page. Not for me. But for the sentences around me. Read them. You must.