Tardis Poem by Vonnie Postit

I am happy, yet all the same,
dreadfully disappointed. 
I really, really, really love poetry-
and that truly scares me.
the thought that I,
the product of a long journey
trying to develop a rebellious,
anti- school, anti- learning persona,
could actually enjoy the monotonous
something- that- we- live- for:  
school. 
The thought that maybe,
just maybe,
all the time spent 'wasted, ' 
doing things I thought I loved,
was actually time wasted. 
I can't lie,  
poetry smiles for me.
Not an ordinary smile either-
one of those smiles
that reassures you,
caresses your worries,
silences your ego,
amplifies your spirit. 
It's not- so- temporary captivation of your brain 
allows judgement without sin-
beautiful in nature.
beware; it's not always pure in intent. 
it is the everlasting,  
everchanging,  
time traveler who's enticing whisper
you can never ignore. 
keep your eyes wide open 
for it's outer small appearance-
a shield for the vast wonders that await
just inside the doors.
don't blink-
you'll die before you finish the stanza.
I find myself
eyes fixed only on poetry:
the past, the present, the future-
what will never be,  
what should always be,
and dreams that slipped through your fingers.
Suddenly I realize,  
I am inside the Tardis of literature 
and there is no hope for me.
Because 
I really, really, really love poetry-
and I am happy, yet all the same,  
dreadfully disappointed.