How a Poem Comes to Me

HOW A POEM COMES TO ME

This is my confession
In a nutshell it started when I was just a child
a quiet little child I was
then it returned when I was 17, the first voice I heard
self alert and socially awkward I never understood
at times would cry and never know why
I really should say im not that good
I dont wanna praise myself on my poetry
but its hard to ignore the artist in me
to not boast of my creativity
the side of me that doesn't give a  damn
to the rules of gravity or perhaps its what I am
I mean I love the fact I have this gift
but something weird happens to me
whenever I feel the urge to vent
my imagination has no boundary
when I PEN there's no humility
why? I really dont know
I feel so alone sometimes,
for this is more than introversion, am not really shy
perhaps im not the good guy so
since I cant escape the way I am
so much emotion in me, only Poetry saved me!
its the one thing I excel in, nothing else saved me
when I write poetry im so freeeeeee
This runs in my vein like Usain Nah mean
Its like a 100 meter dash when my thoughts splash
you dont understand, this is some prophetic sh**t
can hide from the world but I cant hide from me
Im so self conscious how poems come to me.
Its like I trace words with a fallen soul
I feel im going crazy in a hole
On any given day at any given hour
something floods me without warning
my mind becomes filled with thoughts
a door is opened and I see pictures
I am not conscious of what im writing
until the writing is over, ALL OVER.

HELP ME! im in danger, real real danger
of ending up in a mad house
cause with this gift comes a price
and I never asked to... to
 mimic the echoes of an internal voice

more times leaving me without a choice
Sometimes it happens so so fast
I wonder what the the hell is going on
sometimes I get a joyful feeling
sometimes I dont,  like a rush is this emotion.
I dont know where it comes from
except I can compare it to the wind
you can see the leaves, not the wind.
Its gotta be something when moods change
my mind races fast like im on dope
like a well of feelings I feel in the air
im on clouds floating spilling tears
And before long the poem is finished
these poems r born in mostly 10 minutes
I dont understand it, someone explain in
how a poem comes to me, I share it.

Am I the father I doubt it.
Am I manic? Am I psychotic?
What did I do?
this flow is deceptive, it hides well from me
This is my confession how poems come to me.

Mythical_Poet- 1st draft