The Clyde

Alone, with so many thoughts and desires. 

Alone, no one shares these thoughts with me. 

Alone, I didn't know if exaggerating the beauties in this world made me a liar. 

Alone is what I though I'd always be. 

Words, an endless array of ways to speak my mind. 

Words, like fire eating at my insides. 

Words, 26 letters looking so kind. 

Words, in who else can I confide? 

Poetry, a way I can hide. 

Music, in the closest way words can be. 

Soothing, like glancing over the unforgiving Clyde. 

Beauty, is what poetry means to me.