Fighting Reality

Just a Poem

I want to take a poem and tell it

Everything is alright.

Not everyone is out to get them

Not everyone wants something

But they do

They always do.

They are always tering poems apart

Analyzing and picking

Piece by piece, they search

For a meaning, a reason

Always interrogating, pointing the light in their face

Punch and kick and pinch, waiting for a confession

But often it will never come, not ever

Because sometimes a poem is just a poem

So people leave it, shuddering and weeping on the ground

Waiting for it's creator to come along and pick up the pieces

The poem will heal slowly, but then they will come again

But they will be dissapointed

Because sometimes a poem is just a poem.