I was lucky
Drama never exploded upon me
Half-truths
Half-lies
I never took part in them
Being shy and quiet,  
I never really cared for it
Nasty mean words
Hate that poors from mouths like
Bile

I always thought drama was a way for attention seekers to be seen
And a way to hurt people deemed worthy
Such a lovely way to be noticed
Through rumors and hate  
Thick sludge that even the pureness of honesty can't defeat

Honesty was a strong suit for me
A quiet girl with little to say
Why say something if it's a lie?
And most honesty hurts others so I stayed quiet
I had poetry anyway

Poetry
A language of it's own
Flowing, curt, inspiring
It was magic to me
Somehow it still is
A magic that is real,
Yet feels so unreal

Why would I tamper poetry  
With petty drama?
It's pure beauty enables emotion to meet a life in ink
All emotion freely flowing from a pen to a page
Erasing and capturing them into glimpses of what is real and felt

Instead of lies I tell truths
Which is why I rarely speak
The truth is hard to handle
I don't want to be half of something
I'm so whole and full to the brim of life
How would it be right to speak half,  
To live half a life?
It wouldn't be fair
So no half-truths
Only fullness
To represent the life I have to give