The Meaning

The best remedy for me has always been poetry

A diary of memories started out as paragraphs

Picking up rhythm and rhym as my soul quickens

Hands grasps tighter to keep up as my mind as my mind sleeps

For once I feel my soul is to keep

 

Poetry's the only thing that slows down my mentality

Or rather my intellectual chatter

Not to mean that intellect's bad

But with too much I'm stuck thinking of the shoulda, coulda, wouldas

The wave I flow on when my soul speaks

doesn't need success or a physical goal

All that counts is the fulfillment from genuine expression

No judgement or hurt, devaluing of worth

 

I'm already too used to that

That's not me

It's what I'm taught I'm supposed to have in me towards me and my own reality

 

But poetry guides me, directs me, makes me feel naturally

Puts me in line with my third eye so I can see

It teache me about life

that the twists are just a part of my experience

Those twist fan the flame of inspiration to light the dark on my road

Illuminate the dows and crevices of me that don't understand

Keep coming through my hands in that way that makes me understand the meaning

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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