Ode to Poetry: The one thing that helped bring out the potential in me

It deepened my soul, opened my eyes, pulled me out of my dark and internal demise. It captures my heart, describes how I feel, showing me everything that’s sugarcoated in this life of ours, is not at always real. But what exactly is real? Pain, tears, hurt, headache, sorrow, happiness, and laughter? They’re not fake. Placing them together in between lines can often make my bones shake at the effect that it has on my body and soul. It turned me from thinking half way in life, to thinking whole. It restored my broken thoughts even when I fought to accept what was real.

Sometimes I’d go along with how everyone else says it, instead of how I feel... till I fell in love with something that read my heart so clear, it kept all heart burning secrets so near and dear, displayed my emotions that seemed hard to tell, and became the plaster for my wound whenever I fell. This love I found has been around longer than I can imagine, the words are so in-depth and meaningful I would always try to examine how our ancestors in those days accepted something so soft and sweet, yet powerful.

It’s like wisdom food you can eat, better than any meat, naturally seasoned from work produced by artists who chose not to be greedy but share a piece of what life meant to them and how it can relate to us presently in this world we live, which often places me in an area of disgust, as I observe how our country created its own filthy musk. Leaving an unhealthy and ungrateful scent, shaming those who have gone before us and have written so great a mouthful of odes to our country that is filled with much “faith’ yet we never appreciate, but only hate.

Yet still I refuse to let the outer rings of this crumbling country take away the one thing that my ancestors and forefathers left me… and that is my bounty. an award which I held so dear with care throughout these past 19 years I’ve lived. I read it any and everywhere I go, because it was one of the great contributions that was given to us long ago by our dear ancestors of old who now watch from the Heavens in great hope that we would not mope, but happily read and enjoy the poetic stylings that our former writers input into today’s English and reading books. Now today, I proudly look up to the sky and say thank you for paving the way, not just any but the poetry way.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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