Reclaiming Your Inner Poet

My inner poet looks like a scared young girl. With light brown hair and hazel eyes. She feels like a lost puppy in a world full of bulldogs. She was born in a time of great need. The rope of loss dragged her into the world. When my poet opens her eyes she sees everything for what it is. She sees the unseen. My inner poet can be recognized in a moment of weakness. She knows secrets. When she closes her eyes she imagines scenarios that will never happen. Her home is a nice quiet place in the corner of my mind. The moment my inner poet opens her mouth she does nothing but speaks her mind. My inner poet exist to channel my emotions. She stays quiet but has moments that have gotten her the nickname, "hell raiser." Upon her birth, she brought hope. She can bring a light to a dark room. When I need her I can call, anytime of day.