Unwritten Poetry

In writing poetry there is always a lie
In every truth that is composed,
For the meaning we intend to be conveyed
Is lost in the translation of thought to words.
And so even as I write this,
I know you don't understand exactly,
Because interpretations are based on experience,
And my life is unique.
Therefore, what is the point of poetry?
If you can only falsely comprehend my expressions,
And never read my unwritten poetry,
Why tarnish beliefs with meters and rhymes,
Disillusioning readers with the self-confidence
Inspired by personal analyses?
Therein lies the double use of poetry,
As the author tries to share a part of themselves,
While the reader attempts to relate.

So what is the point of poetry?
The answer varies as your position changes.
For me, it is to make you think.
For you, it is to welcome in foreign,
Or not so foreign, ideas,
Thus morphing you ever so slightlty
Into a more refined individual,

Giving you a brief glimpse of my unwritten poetry.