Poetry is an open letter that I never mean to send.
Poetry is the escape that keeps my family from its end.
It keeps my anger from building into a skyscraper,
and it keeps my heart from bleeding on my sleeve.
It describes artfully all of autumn’s leaves.
Poetry is emotions turned into words on paper.
I learned it first many years ago,
but didn’t think it necessary until life made it so.
I didn’t care then- and I hardly care now-
but then I had to learn to keep my mouth shut,
unless I wanted to spend the rest of the night in a row.
Because I’ll never win the argument.
Back talk is insubordinate.
So I turn back to my poetry book,
and no one noticed that my shoulders shook.
Poetry means a sanctuary:
even when emotions are arbitrary.
Poetry is a safety net.
Life is a free for all with smiles and frowns.
Poetry is an anchor that keeps me from sinking down.
Poetry is emotions described well on paper.