Ever been angry,
and wanted to scream?
Ever needed to laugh,
but can't find a meme?
Ever been depressed,
and needed solace?
How about confused,
and need confidence?
Poetry does that,
irons out your bumps.
It takes a cleaver to your anger,
And rescues the walls from your lumps.
For me, it's a release.
For when life gets too complex.
As my schedule refuses to ease,
I find a pen and pencil are slow to vex.
Often, I quickly find,
my emotions show through my prose.
Thankfully, may hand is more kind
than the words my mouth may pose.