Outlet
Feeling alone in a crowd of people
was a normal feeling for me.
I can talk, I can joke, I can laugh,
but I can never really be. Me.
I acknowledged myself as a misfit.
Never fitting in with a specific crew.
Although people liked being around me,
it was never the real me they knew.
I held so many secrets.
There was not anyone that I can trust.
The feelings I held tore me up inside,
Outside I smile, inside I rust.
I needed a release;
I needed a friend.
And one day as tears fell on my homework paper,
I looked at my pen.
I wrote my entire heart
onto several peices of paper.
My words appearing as music to my eyes.
The feeling of relief filling my heart's crater.
My words began to have rhythm.
They matched the beat to my heart.
I found an everlasting friend in poetry.
'Til death do us part.
Poetry changed me. No, it found me.
Who needs to fit in? With my outlet from reality,
I can be whoever I want to be.
Including the real me.