My escape

Poetry, a simple thing,

A thing of class, of beauty.

It cares neither for your thoughts,

nor what you say.

Poetry, simply is.


It says one thing to this one,

yet says another to that one.

It means the world to some,

But means little to others.

To me, it's a means of escape.


When anger and sadness cloud,

when guilt and strife cover,

writing poetry, reading poetry

is the beacon of light to escape.


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741