Ever been angry,

and wanted to scream?

Ever needed to laugh,

but can't find a meme?


Ever been depressed,

and needed solace?

How about confused, 

and need confidence?


Poetry does that,

irons out your bumps.

It takes a cleaver to your anger,

And rescues the walls from your lumps.


For me, it's a release.

For when life gets too complex.

As my schedule refuses to ease,

I find a pen and pencil are slow to vex.


Often, I quickly find,

my emotions show through my prose.

Thankfully, may hand is more kind

than the words my mouth may pose.

This poem is about: 


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