Where does poetry come from?

Does it come from a series of events that have left physical and mental scars on us? Is it the emotions of everyday life escaping from our souls and into words for us to try and make sense of it all? Are they just pretty rhymes and ideas sparking the fires of our imaginations?

I have used it as an escape from the pains of a failing family. Words written where the writer weeps for answers to how and why. My words were raw, uncontrolled emotions becoming stronger and stronger as each day passed by. I've written out rhymes asking why I am alive, why am I the only guy who can see that the fire in my eye has burnt out. These words were my voice; my way to scream and shout. To cast away the lies and doubt. There was a point where placing words on paper was the best poetry I could write; but the soul has no limits, and I can break free of this height.
Up and away, there'd come a day where I may say I am a poet.
A person who writes poems.
A person possessing special powers of imagination or expression.