Essay on Poetry Is Food for Thought

Decent Essays
It is natural for people to believe in many things.
As a child, I thought that eating sweets before going to bed gave you bad dreams.
Also, I just knew Santa Claus was unreal, but the tooth fairy had to be true.
I guess waking up to money under my pillow, but seeing my mom retract her arm from my bed, should have been the deciding clue.
I even thought fire was the greatest toy invented and so I enjoyed playing with flammable objects near all the lit candles.
I actually set an apartment on fire and I received a punishment that I didn’t think Jesus could handle.
Staying to myself a lot caused me to be “behind” in the learning curve on how to express my feelings.
I mean, I had friends but I was always in my own little world and didn’t
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I finally reached down in my backpack and told her there was something that I needed her advice on.
I pulled out this journal that she gave me at our very first hour long session.
I’m sure she noticed the spine was broken and as I turned midway in the book I looked up and stated, “The title of this one is: Love is an Undeserving Lesson.”
It was as if the room was spinning as I began to read to her from my secret book of poetry.
When I finished, I looked up and waited for a response, but all she did was shed a few tears, reached out, and hugged me.
I really didn’t comprehend what was going on, but this weird feeling took over me and so I began to cry.
She was the only other person I was able to completely confide in since April of 1995.
This lady, a stranger, had now become my best friend and throughout the years I discovered my love for poetry, itself, was a rewarding lesson.

Poetry allowed me to love without getting rejected or hurt on many occasions time after time.
I still don’t express myself as others do, because it’s as if pen and paper are the only ways to give someone a glimpse into the rawest form of my mind.
I used to believe poetry’s is the food of love because of its appetizing meaning to me.
It’s the milk of my cereal, the sugar of my tea, the cream of my coffee, the meat of my meals, and any other comparable treats.
Poetry has been the only way for me to escape this
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