Poetry Saved Me

The marigolds on my wrists

breathe into my poetry like

cut wrists breathing out

strawberry jam

It gave my bipolar

ways a place to live,

and sing like sirens

destroying ships.

It gave life too

the miscarriage

my family can

never see or hear

like blind spots

of a broke car.

It taught me

hide my depression

within the lines

confusion.

Lose myself in

sleep, thinking about

my love for poetry.

I was taught to write

about the pain our society

rips us from, the way

we are chained to modern

slavery.

Our minds a gateway

to poetry of beauty

that taught me

to cook my poems

in honey and milk.

Make them feel as

alive as my feelings

are poured in like

cake batter.

And I can finally

say poetry saved

me from my insanity.