Sitting in a room, head down, arms crossed
Thoughts being tossed like its garbage day
All else are deaf to what you have to say
Deciding if you'll stay, because it's easier to leave

Then you shout out a line
The first thing that comes to mind
Maybe a time
When you were freed from oppression
Had happiness, instead if depression
Poetry was your only release
  
Words were like bandaids
Your tempo your brace
Metaphors and similes just to save face
Rhythm and rhyme just in time