I'm a Poet
Experience, tragedy , and Drama make the best poetry
add a few hyperboles and descriptive words expressing what happened
and shit
you're a poet
drawing in audiences reeling them in to take this trip with you up and down emotions
giving them whip lash
lashing out strings of words forming silky phrases
they didn't ask for this
probably considering suggesting therapy sessions but
they sure will snap for you
clapping will break the tension you see
I have a lot of issues
parents issues:
My dad is a military dad strict and raised me under a dictatorship
opinions and ideas were silenced.
His way was the right way.
Certainly not the only way
but it's that way or the highway.
He had the suitcase on the stairs ready.
hushed under yes sirs and no sirs and beginning to hate you sir.
Nothing, sir I'm fine
blood spilled though my ink pens writing over salt stained pages they went
Mom,
Mom who's been my mom for forever
nice, but passively aggressively pealed away my self esteem
and I do love her.
only to find out a few months ago that my mom isn't technically my mom.
not by birthing mom anyway.
It's some lady named Cindy.
and there was always
school issues:
mind functioning faster than most students
identified in Kindergarden
loved literature and writing reading
sucked in deep into the pages where I can escape the saddened reality I lived in
I talk to much.
years and years of comments tend to stick until you grow to believe them
as you grow they become the residue similar to when you peel a sticker off something
we identify these as flaws
I have too many to count.
Annoying, loud, over achiever, try hard, partially black but act white
whatever the hell that means
I began writing poetry my freshman year of high school.
There was this guy I liked who was a musician
oh you know how the story goes
heart beating wanting to impress.
I undress him with my lyrical words
rhyming to match the timing
so the flow of my poem sounded like a song
all along.
it was really bad.
kind of a sad time
he didn't like me.
I was too dorky.
Kinda ugly.
I was a freshman.
But, then I began writing for me.
To express my inner demons giving them a new playground because I couldn't hold them within me any
longer
it was driving me down to a dark place I grew tired of being in.
and so I wrote and wrote my feelings and life
and decided to share
because now I know from being within the poetry community.
I'm not alone and I have a voice
people will listen
so from one poet to another one who's underground.
come up
there aren't railroads down there anymore.
Just hollow tunnels echoing back
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