I Needed A Break... From

And Everyone Knows You Can’t Disprove A Rumor.

Like Driving Along A Bumpy Road And Losing Control Of The Steering Wheel, Tossing You—just A Tad—off The Road. The Wheels Kick Up Some Dirt, But You're Able To Pull It Back. Yet No Matter How Hard You Try To Drive Straight, Something Keeps Jerking You To The Side. You Have So Little Control Over Anything Anymore. And At Some Point, The Struggle Becomes Too Much—too Tiring—and You Consider Letting Go. Allowing Tragedy... Or Whatever... To Happen.

A Flood Of Emotions Rushes Into Me. Pain And Anger. Sadness And Pity. But Most Surprising Of All, Hope.

That’s What I Love About Poetry. The More Abstract, The Better. The Stuff Were Your Not Sure What The Poets Talking About. You May Have An Idea, But You Cant Be Sure. Not A Hundred Percent. Each Word, Specifically Chosen, Could Have A Million Different Meanings. Is It A Stand-in ―a Symbol For Another Idea? Does It Fit Into A Larger, More Hidden, Metaphor? ...i Hated Poetry Until Someone Showed Me How To Appreciate It. He Told Me To See Poetry As A Puzzle. Its Up To The Reader To Decipher The Code, Or The Words, Based On Everything They Know About Life And Emotions.

I Was Too Weak To Walk. At Least, I Thought I Was Too Weak. But In Truth, I Was Too Weak To Try.