This One's Life
It started as a child.
I noticed a difference even then.
As other kids played games
like tetherball and freeze tag,
I sat alone, aloof and quiet.
Lost in a sunny world of dreams.
Even in the rain.
Especially in the rain.
Drizzling moisture was my dearest friend.
Dewdrops an inspiration
An aspiration
Moments as such a motivational spark
in an already intellectual mind.
As I grew, my dreams with me came.
My greatest joy in manipulating words
to fit my vision.
A symbol of control
in an adolescent psyche,
an immature soul,
yet mature in its own right.
Especially compared to others
around my age.
I began to find beauty
in things others spared
not a single glance,
things hideously ugly
With beautific souls.
I continued to grow, and my dreams,
they took on the shape of goals.
I made friends using humour and blitheness,
hiding the darker emotions, such as
anger, sorrow, bitterness, melancholy,
because I believed that those feelings
were unwanted
In everyone's friend.
I became known as a happy person
with only my pen and paper tasting
my true self, seeing me
without the metaphorical mask
that we all wear.
I grew out of writing prose
and twisted my words
to fill out the midnight of my emotions
into the form of poetry.
I figured if Poe could do it,
so could I,
Though I daren't harbor the hope
that I have talent such as he.
But I make myself happy,
content in letting go of the stress and anger
through the coercion of words and phrases
and I am psychologically cleansed.
As I continue to grow
physically and spiritually
I still dream.