You and I were like fire and gasoline,
each time we saw each other, you inflamed me
my mind, my soul, my heart was alive
but then the depression hit me and I was just trying to survive.
My soul had been fed but only for such a short time,
don't know why you did me wrong for innocent enough crimes
I didn't lie, belittle, or manipulate--all the things you said you hate
You blamed it on me, and cornered me in the cab of that car
berated me to tears and took it too far.
All the nights we spent staying up late and analyzing films
made me realize that the antogonist was you altogether still
all the time you wasted on me while you knew things I didn't know
all the cowardice and selfish ways you never got to show--
Not til the last minute, when you neglected me in need
cruelly sneered at me.
Then you cried when we were together, giving me my stuff
we agreed we'd see each other in 2 more months
See where we're going, grow from where we've been
but now I'm wondering if we will even meet again.
. . .
But that's beside the point, I'm here to tell you why
poetry evaporates all the tears from my eyes
Ever since I was little, I loved writing prompts in class
I always wrote past the time the teacher made last.
Essays were fun, writing was my favorite creative outlet
and once I became a musician, I learned how to shout it
Poems became lyrics about how frustrated I am
and songs became poems about feeling that life was a sham
Whatever energy I brought to the table was enthused by more thoughts
and then my brain started thinking a lot,
"This is art, this means a lot to me," I always knew it and I could see
that this is something that could set all my negative emotions free.
I decided upon this medium while young,
I always felt such a connection to my pen and paper and poems that I sung
I realized that there was a disconnect, something that I'd miss
which would be me, getting to share what was in my brain...all of this.