My freedom... And my condemnation. imagination Opens windows to scintillating  sensations, but Closes the doors to the realization thatWhen I ramble on about the things that strike me As interesting ways to see views that Have no limits. PleaseI don't care about what you have to say Is all the people really think of me andThey don't know what it does inside how Reality is crushing the delicate life and Slowly twisting the creative-killing knife as My bitterness turns to strife because Nobody is on my side. TheyMock me for my interests but Wonder why I like seclusion best andTruth be told I just want them to understand soI bring paper to pen and I Write out what I feel inside so that Words turn to sentences that turn to stories thatIn turn ease my worries ofNever being understood. I've finally found a medium for Others to read about my thoughts and See them for their brilliancy and Without expectations for conformity  Step into the nightmares and dreams Created intentionally by me So that they too canSee what I seeKnow what I know Feel what I feel My freedom... Not my condemnation. Poetry Opens windows to scintillating  sensations, and Actually opens the doors to the realization thatWhen I ramble on about the things that strike me As interesting ways to see views that have no limitsOther people can understand me when I level with them and give them the tools necessary to Widen their perspectives temporarily and Clear the fog that separates my world from theirs. When it comes to communicating effectively At least for me Poetry is a necessity that Breaks barriers and sets words free to Truly mean what they meanBut first and most importantlyIt closes the divide So my imagination Can finally becomeReality