Who are you?

Poetry found me when I could no longer see myself.
When writing what I felt became my only release. 
When my heartbeat could not steady, my hands wrote the words to calm the rhythm.
It does not have to beautiful or rhyme,
It can be short or sweet-
Simple and to the point or deep and in many verses.
Sometimes, I’m not always sure what to say
But by the end of the poem, I’ll figure it out.
I am not an open book,
I don’t share what I write
Unless I feel as though my story
Helps another turn the page in theirs.
When I’m not able to speak my mind,
Poetry frees me of my chains
Climbs into my bed and says
“This is you, these words are yours,
And that, my dear, is all that matters.”
Asking me what poetry has taught me is a loaded question
Because the answer is endless.
To keep it short, all I can say is
Poetry has helped me learn how to define who I am.
It has opened the door and invited in my best self.

This poem is about: 
Me

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