It's all Just Words, Really.

I found the paper and the pen

when I was sixteen and until then, 

I saw them as only simple objects.

I couldn't fathom the effects 

the ink and page would have on me,

where I could drift away and be free.

Free from the stress of a teenage life

filled with angst and high school strife

created by adults with high expectations 

like parents, teachers and countless congregations

who believed there was nothing I couldn't accomplish 

so long as I graduated with a mind that wasn't completely demolished. 

 

I found the paper and the pen.

I sat at a desk and that was when

the universe opened its massive doors.

On a whim, I wrote down all the wars

that occured inside me on a daily basis

and poems became my beautiful oasis. 

Anxiety and depression were locked away

in poems, on a page where they will stay

instead of inside, gnawing at my soul.

Becuase of poetry, I feel more whole.

 

When you think about it, it almost sounds silly. 

Cause in the end, it's all just words really. 

This poem is about: 
Me

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