I have found lately that I am in need of some therapy.
Now, some choose to go and speak to others about their issues,
Sitting on comfy, overpriced furniture while higher ups
Nodding their heads in agreement
Eyebrows pinched downward with discomfort,
Waiting to hear the “Powers-That-Be” say
To find a co-worker to listen to the woes of the world,
Ones who will give a sympathetic ear
Just to work their jaws
To others in gossip,
With small smirks curling up at
The ends of tongue-licked lips,
Totally pushing one deeper into a depression,
A cavern of darkness,
To feelings of nowhere.
I chose to write.
That natural outlet for disturbed, warped in thought individuals,
People trapped in thoughts that can not be shared
To the average man.
To just type and listen to the sound of the keys
Under one’s fingertips.
The rhythm of knowing that words can
Drop out of the soul like
Rain splattering on the pavement in an unannounced
Spring storm in May.
In honor of Maya Angelou-Thank you for allowing me to see that poetry is the way to give one’s thoughts from deep within one’s soul.