Emotional Chicken

I am an emotional chicken whose head has been severed 

When they say 

'Watch out for my cup hast runneth over' 

The items in that cup are my emotions 

Uncontrollable because they have been ignored 

I am a poet because even though the chicken is wild and making a mess

I can trace its tracks

My words

Help me trace where my emotions have been 

How they got here 

And where they will go 

I am a poet because my wild emotions make me sweat and silence my lips

But not my pen 

I was told that I should be able to explain my emotions 

Have concise sentences 

With no analogizes 

Similes 

Or metaphors 

However even my English essay's seem to sing like my poems 

So the only place I know how to be 

Is here

In words that aren't concise and that can mean anything

But the only thing that my poems mean is

That I have emotions that are wild but beautiful and complex.