Life's little helper

In middle school we wrote poems,

I learned to write out all my thoughts.

I learned sometimes to reach my calm,

I need to write what’s on my mind.

I got through middle and high school,

Poems help my mind to cope,

My words to spill

My heart to relax.

They help me through difficult times.

Through high school’s worst,

Things a child should never feel,

Things that in old pages now rest.

When I write my storm filled ocean of a mind can turn

To calming waves along a shore,

Slowly pulling the sands of beaches with it

Lacing every line of this tide, with pieces of reality.

When things get bad and change is unwanted

When bad feelings are taking over like ivies on trees

I write poems or short stories.

They are my blade to cut away these ivies.

Poems are the bursts of feelings I hold back

The feelings I can’t act on

The feelings I cope with

With words on a page.

Now I’m going to college,

With a notebook in hand,

Ready for what may happen,

With a bed of pages to fall on.