poetry is not meant to be shared
we sit
a room of bored teenagers
with nowhere to go
and nowhere to be
while you express your emotions
your faults
your doubts
look at me
i don’t understand your problems
for the love of god
i don’t even understand mine
poetry is meant to be hidden
written in notebooks
that remain crushed beneath mattresses
not meant to be professed to a crowded room
and maybe i’m wrong
i have a cynic's view of this world
and maybe i’m too young for that
but none of us understand you
no matter the words
we don’t understand ourselves
and poetry
poetry is meant to be our definition
but a secret definition
one held close to your chest
this is my rant
not tearful exposure of long-felt pain
i have lots of pain
i just don’t share it
because that poetry is meant to be hidden