A  popeyed visitor,
to the newly opened
museum, see this;
a metallic bust
of a populist politico,
smiles intermittently,
to everyone around.
(They had enough of it,
even before his demise.)
Perplexed, he reports
the misdemeanor,
dutifully at once.
The shrink with him
during this time,
was away talking
with a museum guide.

I can honestly say,  I don't know where I would be, had I never discovered poetry
One thing is for sure, I wouldn't be me Which got me to think who else I could be... If I were given other ways to express creatively

Maybe a dancer...  A constant beat already flows though my head.  On the inside I Pop & Lock away, Yet when presented to the outside, it comes off so clumsily instead
And with such lack of coordination, I'll never get the chance To deliver true emotion in the form of any dance

And what if I could sing in tune, I could express this all through song. I've got rhythm in my heart, now if only my voice would play along

If I didn't lack the melody needed, I'd be on the radio with an album almost completed

Or maybe on world tour, letting it all out on stage. The silence of my poetry could finally be released from it's cage
But again I just can't carry a note, so just like my dancing, there ain't much to promote

Don't get me wrong though, I'm okay either way. I got poetry to relay anything I want to say  And this  form of expression will last until my dying day