Ghost

Surprisingly enough,

I hate talking about poetry in school.

Something about it does not feel right.

Some sterile element

Is added

To this feral art form.

Some part of it is killed softly,

And I'm not sure which part,

Or how, for that matter.

But I know, that somehow

It feels wrong.

This poetry-lesson-class-thing.

Something is amiss.

Perhaps,

It may be the force of the act.

People that despise poetry

Are forced into reading,

Analyzing it.

I don't know why this happens.

Because I don't think it brings them to enjoy poetry more.

I'm not sure about any of this.

I am only sure

Of my uncertainty.

And I'm not crazy about analyzing poetry to death.

Sometimes,

More often than not in my mind,

Poetry is written with an emotion.

Everything that spawns from that becomes words.

And while people say you shouldn't write at the height of an emotion

(I agree with this to an extent)

There's still emotion.

Themes?

Sure, it's whatever we want to make up.

There are no right answers here.

Ever.

And I don't want to sound arrogant and pretentious

(I do, but screw it)

But why can't we just let it be?

Just soak up the emotion,

Admire the way the words sound,

What feelings they stir up for each reader.

There is nothing more intriguing

Than receiving feedback from a reader.

Nonverbal, verbal, whatever.

It's awesome.

I prefer nonverbal.

Personally.

But I am so totally unsure of poetry

in school.

I really don't know.

Part of me wants to be difficult

And to just throw caution to the wind

And do what I feel is right.

But that makes me feel awful.

Dreadful.

What do I know about poetry?

What do I know about anything?

Why do I always sound snobbish and pretentious

When I talk about what I love?

Why do I say things like that?

Because I do love it.

But it's some internal battle

Some war with no end in sight.

And I am lost,

Utterly lost in my thoughts.

Tangled

Beyond belief.

I believe in poetry.

And I guess that's all that matters.

Right?