What Is that "Feeling"

I sit. Quiet. 

I don't unserstand.

The tearsn they fall. 

I can't stop them. 

I look out the window. It is raining. 

Of course it is. 

The bus stops. I wipe my face, 

Lifted myself up, and walked off the bus. 

I wander home, and hum a tune as I meander down the road. 

I get home, I don't waste a minute. 

I grab the nearest pen, the nearest piece of paper, and I write. 

I don't think. No I don' think. 

Instead, for the first time in a while, I let my heart talk. 

I let the words flow from my heart to my hand to my paper. 

I let the feelings out. I think of what they mean. 

This is it. 

This is how I cope.

I let the poem on the paper do the talking. 

I let the poetry teach me to accept my feelings. 

I can't hold them in. 

I let them out. 

The poetry teaches me tolet go of the feelings.