Some of us write to feel the pain,
Some to let it go.
Some write just because it rhymes,
Others just don’t know.
Nature and its beauty,
A graveyard with its ghost.
A dream of futures happy,
Passion is in most.
A poem that's so delicate
Words straight from a heart.
Only from a dreamer's soul,
Their words a work of art.
A poem is a gateway,
That leads into the mind,
A passage that is hard to reach,
And double hard to find.
But you can find it if you look
Into some troubled eyes,
You never know what each word means,
My lines are held-in cries.
But others could be just to say
"Hello", "Have a great day"
It just depends who’s writing,
And who might come their way.