PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

At eight years old
I ended up
Against my will
In a town
In the middle
Of nowhere
Some where nice
Some psychotic
Some racist
And some
Just opportunistic
When it came
To bullying
Overwhelmed
With no one
To turn to
I turned
To my only
Constant
My only positive
Music
I still love
To sing
But even
That now
Is no match
For the happiness
The poetry
I write does bring
And without
My music
My poetry
Would never
Have happened
I hate what
I went through
But to those
Who put me
Through it
Thank you
For the music
You forced
Me to seek
And the inspiration
To write about
Something better
Than what
I did see