We poet's are Unseen (Cont'd)

What do we gain? Emotions that drift us away, I’m confused is poetry a map of our hearts? Is it just words scribbled in sadness, joy, or despair? Or is it a mirror, reflecting what no one dares to share? We are neglected — yes. Why? Because we speak the truth. We carry old wounds in lines others tell us to hide. Our lives confined, our pains trailing behind like flies, Yet I’m glad to be a poet known or unknown, heard or unheard. I’m at peace expressing my feelings in words the world leaves unsaid.