Rites of Passage to Poetry

You remember how you were created?

You were formed in the womb,

your arms, legs, and lungs,

started to be molded as time went by.

How you were transformed into a human being,

and brought into this world.

You have rites of passage,

Your birth is one.

Years go on and your a little toddler,

playing in the sand, and running through the grass.

Only to be teased and and hurt by the ones who look just like you.

Small, tiny, defenseless little ones.

You start to realize that your world isn't all rainbows and unicorns.

You have rites of passage,

Growing up is two.

Reality hits you in all different directions,

waiting to sneek up behind you.

Your life is a million dollar motion picture.

Your the star but reality is the villian,

your romantic film just turned into a Amniville horror.

You take the time to sit and write,

sit and wirte,

and sit and write.

Pouring out your heart and soul into every I you dot,

and every T you cross.

Letting the escape of words be your savior.

Poetry is my escape,

my hero, my way of leaving reality and traveling to utopia,

Poetry is where I find refuge and I can be still,

Im Alice in Wonderland, i find a thrill at every line.

So when your a teenager and life hits you hard,

you search for understanding, but you can't find it,

you wirte down everything in your book,

a book no one can take from you.

You have rites of passage,

Writing is three.

You wait to grow up and the time will come,

but for now you write about it,

day by day you write,

using your imagination and reality as your guide.

I use poetry to send me on new adventures,

and take me away from all my struggles,

I'm like Indiana Jones finding lost treasures.

You have rites of passage,

Poetry is four,

and my right to poetry will never be taken.