My Friend Named Poetry

 

 

In the beginning were my words,

And my words were formed by God;

And my words reflected my dolorous anguish.

With my heart shattered to dust

By the brusqueness and lackadaisical

Attention from the world,

I yearned for escapism,

I longed for a halcyon life.

Stopping the beat of my heart

Was not a valid option.

Maltreating my body

Was not a valid option.

I wanted to let out

The words of a person

Hurt by the world.

My heart was screaming for repair.

That is when I had my pen in hand,

And paper awaiting the arrival of my words.

The words flowed together in perfect harmony,

As a river flows down its bank, calmly,

Mellifluously.

Artists are molded by their work and self-judgment,

I became molded by the words of my mind.

Of my heart.

Poetry opened my eyes,

Allowing me to see a world of wonder

And a world of opportunity.

A world that has open doors

For me to walk through

At anytime.

Poetry is there to help allay me,

To set me free from the iniquities of the world.

It is my friend in the late hours of the night,

The wee hours of the morning.

It cradles my emotions and

Transiently mends my heart.

Poetry founded me,

And I happily accepted it into my life.

My life has changed indefinitely

Because of poetry.

And it is poetry

That sets me free.

 

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