The Promise of Poetry

All alone, hiding in the corner

The party's on fire, the music has started

I want to fit in, I'm desperate

But I know the cause is helpless.

I don't fit in with the crowd

No, I very much stand out

Got the reputation of 'weird'

Of 'quiet', 'strange', and 'scared.'

So I stay with a pen

Watching each interaction

Writing what I see

Wishing it could be me.

I keep the pen moving,

The words consuming

The blue ink dancing,

It's so enchanting.

The poems pull me in

Starting a fire within

Settling over me

Gentle and warming.

The party may come to an end

And I still might not have a friend

But at least I have my art

My poems, the pieces of my heart.