I write poems often
But there are certain ones
I don’t share.
They have scratches and are sharp
So sharp they could slice skin
Or a funny shaped muscle
Found in the center of you.
And I don’t consider this one of them
You know, one of those poems that are great
In every way.
They don’t have to be great all the time
That’s not the objective
Because there isn’t one
At least for me
I don’t do this because I want attention
Or acceptance
I just want peace and a place I can lay my thoughts down
Safely
Without them being woken up.
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