Poetry is supposed to tell truths
An honest stream spilling from the depth of the soul
Acting in some sort of role
To soothe, inspire, and challenge
Both the poet and the reader
But I never realized how much I lie
Until I tried to write my feelings down in rhyme
It takes a strong kind of courage
To mar that white page
With the marks of your life
To convey both sorrow and rage
In truth, there is strength
That must mean I am weak
For I fear that I've found
No bravery to abound
My words bleed
And insincerity leaves
A bitter tang in my mouth
Though I do try to show what I know
My world isn't so big after all
The birds overhead and the tractor in the field
Or even the dull ache I feel as I walk down the road
It could fit within the confines of a few stanzas
The poem itself is fine
But that's where the problem lies
For poetry should never be easy
And that's how I know my real feelings don't show
For lies are the easiest stories to tell
YOU ARE READING
A Tree Takes Root
Poetrya tree takes root out of the seeds that were sown as deep in the forest a new life is grown
