Horse Feathers

long ago-
when pen started dancing
upon parchment;

eyes that gazed, remained skeptical

"Just a bunch of horse feathers"
(they whispered)

If I had listened;
these words of mine
would have gotten lost
in the endless shuffle of
chaos that pays room and board
inside my mind.

I refuse to have clutter
upon my soul,
writing allows me to vanish
in the night (unscathed).

These letters I throw down
mean something to me and
the stranger who reads at
2 am- I'm not meant to reach
everyone- just a few is good
enough.

It only takes one poem
to help another understand
they are not alone.