How I discovered Poetry

It was dawn, I guess
Not very long, I guess
When in I reached the halls of far.

Far away was home,
Not very close was home
And what was exhumed -
Was a me, aghast.
A pen and a note was all I had
In a place where none I knew
And I cried alone in that giant room
I remember
I cried alone to atone.

And in tears, I held
The pen blue
And on paper, I felt
the same dark hue.
I needed something
A solace or a kick
And for that, I drew
Some words I knew.
And thus, at the end
I had a work
A poem of sorts
That had all my worlds.