“Poet, breathe now.”

Adam Gottlieb’s words soon stuck in my head.

“Louder Than a Bomb” sketched in my notebook.

Poetry.

Enthusiasm from those slammers on stage.

Those words motivating the audience.

Enthralling me.

“I want to do that some day,” as I watched the documentary.

Depression eating at me, words flow onto the paper.

Line after line after line.
Anxiety wandered away.

Day after day after day,

Self harm soon vanished.

Happiness peaked from the corners of my lips.

Those horrid everyday thoughts became rhymes scrambled onto paper.

No longer hiding behind my brain.

I no longer had to hide in my room.

My poetry needed to be heard.

My poetry has now been heard.