Deliverance Of Poetry

I am a true disappointment to my own name.

I have been praised for my achievements and for my growth.

Yet, I am truely nothing amazing.

During a critical moment I reverted into the forgetful and idiotic child that I was,

Or rather, the child that I still am.

So much guilt fills me and no amount of forgivness can ease my pain.

And this pain from the guilt, it renders me speechless!

Now, in the aftermath of my stupidity, I am left alone behind the fence of my good neaighbor's garden.

Writing poetry as I look apon the natural beauty of my good neaigbor's garden.

At the same time, I am finding my pain being eased with each and every stanza that I write.

This relief is slow, but I greatfully welcome this salvation.

It is glorious how writing a simple poem can bring such angelic relief. 

No longer do I suffer, for I am saved by the power of the written word.

Oh the delieverance of poetry!