Someone asked why I love poetry I just told them it’s juss nice to listen to Told them it keeps me busy Keeps my mind off things Not that it gives my horror story a rhythm A rhythm that keeps the listeners lingering Not that it pours out my pain Without making them cower away Or disguises it from sounding like horror More like a story, one feels without feeling pity But with understanding I didn’t mention it helps me tell my tale Without the fear of rejection— But with intent Nor did I say it's the only language My voice doesn’t quiver in On the contrary—it's loud, clear, and truthful I hid the fact that it's the only way My story stays unfiltered, unrefined Just raw As raw as the wounds it speaks No, I just said it’s nice to listen to I could have said it enchants my soul And sways me away But it also keeps me grounded. I made them believe it's juss words Scrambled But in truth--- It's a story A story worth a reader And definitely--- Worth a listener Worthy of being heard. Letizia.L.M