I Caught the Plague

Poetry is weird,

Confusing, no definition.

It’s nothing like math or science;

One plus one could be two,

Or it could be this unanswerable question

explored beyond any real meaning.

Poetry frightening,

Bare ass emotions out

On the page for everyone to see.

It’s a public battle

To find yourself, or show

The world the real you.

The real you carries demons

Hiding out in your closet.

The real you secretly

Loves Justin Bieber.

Poetry is dying to

Exploit the real you.

Poetry is an illness,

A deadly infection.

All English teachers carry it;

Walking day to day

They pass it on to new,

Innocent victims.

The only vaccine is

The stubborn mind that

Refuses to hear the millions of poets

In Love, In Pain, In Limbo,

Lost or Found,

Observing the world around them.

So how did I catch the poetry bug?

I read a poem about two goldfish in love.