For You Or For Me?

Bored between meetings, you scroll through the feed,

Among 100 competing stimuli, my poem you read.

Bored throughout the day, I let thoughts fester into verse,

Hunched on my desk, I touch you, for better or worse.

 

My poem catches your eyes, it's a microcosm of your life,

Capturing with high fidelity, your daily dilemmas and strife.

I make it a point to dump daily, it's a habit like the bath or the brush,

And for the very same reasons, that the dust doesn't my soul crush.

 

My poems make you squirm, stops you dead in your tracks,

You can recognize aspects of you, as you peep through the cracks.

I know because I can write with skill, each incident big and small,

As long as I process my feelings daily, I'll never hit the wall.

 

My poems make you ponder, what it's like to be human again,

For me it documents my wonder, that I continue to remain sane.