All I see is anger
Writhing in my head
Burning, churning
Hot, bright red
You wanted
Poetry?
Come along
You may just see
I'll show you
Everything I've got
Will you take it?
Maybe not!
I won't limit my poetry
Because some words are "bad!"
Just suggesting such a thing
Makes me really really mad!
I you won't listen
To what I have to say
I'm pretty sure
The door is over that way
Your feedback helps were understand what's working
I'm 12, and love art, popcorn, skittles, movies, minecraft, skiing, volleyball, and this app! Follow my BFF, @Janney11.
My poems are just doodlewords, They don't take long to write. I observe the world around me, By ear, by nose or sight. By then my brain has started, To note a line or two.
It's late at night. But I had an urge to write. Sometimes I get these itches. Ripping me like broken stitches. So I make a rhyme. To past the time. Or because words start to flow.
My poems are thoughts. That come from my mind. Some of them dirty. Some can be kind. I can write fiction. Or even the truth. My sexual poems. Go through the roof. Sometimes you won't like.
It's all just words, And it's all just ink. But it's really much more, A lot more come to think. It's letters and sentences, It really is my heart. Writing is my future, My end and my start.
I don't know how to put my words down with ink and script. It's like my pen has all run dry, it's suddenly tight-lipped. I try to make me literate, to tell you how I feel.
I don't think in music. I don't think in lines. I don't think in canvases. No. I think in rhymes. I don't speak in eloquence. I don't speak in prose. I don't speak in coloured tongue.
M usic, a huge part of my life. U niversal language for all. S ounds that help, calm or ignite. I t's magic never fails to pull. C omfort from pain, always something to gain.
I write for the sheer joy of expressing myself. A palette of words to paint a thought. A feast for your palate adventures have brought. To have you cry with me. Or share in my laughter.
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