A family distracted by the capitalist economy,
A young babe with no attention except the nanny’s,
The nanny doing dishes now, making my meal next and changing my soiled clothes,
Television became a friend, one that never allowed me to talk,
All I did was listening and I had to find happiness from without.
Passing days, passing years, and so I grew older,
The nanny was no more,
Left in my teachers hands and so fast was she to reproach my acts,
The others found me weird; I knew not how to share,
The loneliness killed me, my elder siblings always on phone,
Then it started.
A small notebook, I scribbled my screams,
Almost tore all the pages off,
Then I could relate my happiness, less harsh than my frustrations,
The writings neat and organized, a diary next
Before I knew it a whole collection of emotional thoughts.
My classmates called me Shakespeare.
Who is this Shakespeare they talk of?
So I found my talent,
A source of joy, that brought solace and internal peace,
To my distraught being.
The anguish and despair died down,
Mommy found me more appealing,
As there were less visits to the principal’s office.
Poetry a form of life,
An art that gives my life direction,
Not just writing but a way of life that goes deep beyond description,
It is difficult to find the perfect description,
Although food for the soul fits, it still leaves a gap,
A gap that I endeavor to fill through undefined means.
The desire to find an exact explanation of what poetry means to my life,
Lights up a bright fire from within to write, write and write,
The feeling is unexplainable as what it does is just that,
Colors my world like the rainbow in the sky.