Poetry Is My Words

Poetry is my words.

On Paper, I have a cascading waterfall,

And I can run freely,

Like being released to natural habitat


I can write about childhoods torn away,

Not by the monsters under our beds,

But the monsters found in our heads and hearts.

That are swept away like broken barriers,

And leave us feeling guilty for something we didn't choose,

With us being as young as 9 years old.


I can write about how we can overcome anything,

Through our powerful friendships.

How we can trust friends with our words,

Like an unyielding river,

Changing worlds and killing insecurities.


I can write about how powerful rivers run dry.

How they can be stopped by dams,

And stolen by buckets of lies.

How it can dry up an entire world,

Leaving nothing for inhabitants and newcomers.


I can write about how water can be introduced to a parched desert.

From a tiny drop from a water faucet,

Growing into a giant rainstorm,

Leaving a colossal ocean left in it's place,

Refurbishing a formerly unknown wasteland.


I can write about how fog can cover an entire town.

Can cover everything beautiful inside it,

Name themselves after what they take,

And take the form of the most beautiful bodies,

And like sirens, lead us to an early demise.


I can write about learning not to follow beautiful bodies.

Especially not ones with atrocious ideas.

To learn to love again in the form of writing,

Favorites being beautiful symphonies of words,

To occupy my anxiously running mind.


I can write about childhood horrors and flowing hope.

I can write about dried up worlds and refilling rainstorms.

I can write about fog made of sirens and learning common sense.

But most important of all; 

I write because Poetry is my Words.

This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

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