My Need

The people in my class analyzed poetry

With finely sharpened pencils

And color coordinated pens.

                          I don’t understand.

                                          I thought poetry spewed from within,

                                          Without care,

                                          Out of necessity,

                                          Out of the need to rip the bullet from

                                          One’s heart,

                          Out of the need to

                          Save oneself.