I sit here writing this poem,
Blaring music in my head,
Waiting for a topic to rise.

But one is here now,
It's on my paper,
And in my heart.

This poem is about poetry,
It's a self examination,
It's about me.

As you read this you think:
"What is this about?"
Well I'll tell you...

This is about my life,
I write these poems to escape,
To build a world of emotion.

But that world is my life,
It's who I am,
And it's no escape, but a trap.

The poetry tells me who I am,
Explains my point in life,
And exposes me to the world.

If you don't understand,
Then you sit and write a poem,
You put your life into words.

People ask who my poetry is about,
I tell them: "No one, funny huh?"
But they're all about me.

They speak my life,
And color my soul,
They express me.

Each word is a memory,
A wish, or a need,
A plea for more.

And you read this with bias,
Because you're not me,
You don't live my poetry.

No you live your own poetry,
You express your own life,
And people criticize you...

But you can't see that,
Because you hide behind your words,
And express your emotions.

The time will come when you realize,
That you are the emotions,
And the words make you.

So as you read this in shock,
disbelief, denial, or anger,
Think about your poetry.

Why do you write?
Is it a hobby, or your life?
Because in final, it's you.

Now I'll finish up with this,
Because I've expresses myself,
To myself. Alone.

If you read this,
You won't get it,
You're not me.

So sit down and write,
Be yourself and show the world.
Because you are alone.

In your poetry you are alone,
You must build your world,
And make your friends.

Because your poetry is your life,
And your life is your expression,
And your expression is your poetry...