Let's Talk About Poetry

Let's talk about poetry

It's not that we want to slander
It's not that we want to cut down
It's just that it's the one place where
It's possible for an entire world
To be lifted off a single piece of paper
I remember the time When I used to wonder
What the hell am I doing?
Faith was shattering into a million pieces
I could hear but I was deaf
I was blind but I could see
Broken battered bruised Shaken
Whispers telling me I'm forsaken
Locked myself away in a safe
Where I thought I was clean
From all the dirt that had Collected under my nails
But what I couldn't see Was that the dirt was me
I Suppressed every truth, projected every lie
Expected some sort of recess from my
Distressed mind
I injected some sort of serum
In which I thought I could reject
The truth, but what good did that really do?
And then, good ol' papa came alone down the road
Found me hiding in some bushes
And picked up the tiny shards of my obliteration
He took his travellers cloak and wrapped my abused flesh
He gave me a pen and took my blade
He gave me some parchment and wrapped up my wounds
Instead of my blood he gave me a small bottle
Of writers ink and said:
"Baby girl, let's talk about poetry."
He told me I could
Personally
Openly
Express my
Trauma without any
Repercussions if I just said
Yes to all my flaws
And saw them to be beautiful
These aren't just words you know
It's affliction and sorrow
It takes our pain so that in the
Morrow We have reason
To want to open our eyes and not pretend
Thinking if we shut our eyes tight enough
We would surely die
When I scribbled my troubles against any surface I knew
It wouldn't talk back or
Throw stones when I wasn't looking
Nor would it loom over me
Like those dark clouds I'm so used to seeing
It let me be, for the first time in my life
Free.