Being a poet
Was the finest gift
I could ever be blessed with

Even though I didn’t
Blend in with their world
I had my own clandestine
Dwelling place that could relate to me
More than society ever could

Within poetry
I could compose
The most memorable
And masterly poems
Formulating my unexpressed feelings
My secret crushes
Infatuations and loves
Into ample amounts
Of dream-filled, transparent
Work of creativity

They didn’t have
To comprehend my language
I was enough
To the poetic world
It received me delightedly
It opened me to a dimension
Of intercontinental discoveries
Allowing me to expand my terminology
Bringing illimitable insight
Ponderous imagination
More than my mind
Had ever ascertained before