Words from the heart fraught with love.

Words of prayer sent to the skies above.

Words of sorrow of something lost.

Words of anger from someone crossed.

Words are just words, this is true.

The only difference, what are they to you?

Maybe they’re the thoughts of a secret kind.

The ones only meant for you’re mind.

Or are they your escape to a world unknown?

Perhaps they’re telling you of a peaceful abode?

Or maybe a story of a hero?

No matter the story we always know,

If it makes we sad,

If it makes we mad,

If it makes we happy,

“This is what poetry means to me.”