The low yellow
moon above the
Quiet lamplit house.

Sun rays cutting across the room so you can watch the dust fly
Your heart singing to the beat of butterflies with broken wings that live
inside your chest
Child-like laughter replaces oxygen in the air
While memories of running through grass, fog over your eyes
A pale yellow/tan hue clouds around your mind
And glimpses of an old song playing on repeat
But it's all only there for a moment,
Like a deep breath in, then it's gone.

I write because—
A sudden pause.
Why do you write?
There is a reason to it right?

"For pain!" they might say,
"For fame!" cries another.
"For glory!" they might argue
"For defeat." some would bother.

Why do you write?
A student giggled, "For class to be dismissed."
"Oh because you exist." A romantic chanted.

The metaphors you paint vividly,
letters and punctuations you bring closer.
What urges you to bring into existence,
Works of art from bleeding hearts.

Why do you really write?

because I feel, yet they tell me I am numb
because I learn, yet they show me I am dumb
They tell me I should change my mind,
As I am only wasting my time.

I write because...
there's a thousand reasons that I shouldn't but a million more that tells me I should.