Poetry is good. Good therapy. Good for the soul.
Good for the heart.
Poetry is a release. An exercise.
Makes you feel you’re doing something to help yourself.
Nothing to do with thinking others may read it.
An exercise of desperation.
Maybe healing a slight wound.
Or a major one.
Writing helps me to go on.
Just one more minute. One more day.
All of it doesn’t really matter.
Life begins with birth. It ends with death.
All in between is extra.
Gifts and burdens.
Love joy pain awake in life.
And so many feelings.
Often confusing; sometimes tingles, sometimes tickles.
Sometimes a knife.
Poetry is good.
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