Mar 2017
Why must you write?
How strange, to question it.
To question something that is as needed as breathing.
For that is what I am;
A writer.
I shall bleed over the page,
To form words you question so adamantly.
I shall breathe in the sorrows of yesterday,
And expel them into the words of tomorrow.
I shall write the words I wish to scream.
Why must you write?*
Because, darling, I am a poet
I have no choice
How strange, to question it.
To question something that is as needed as breathing.
For that is what I am;
A writer.
I shall bleed over the page,
To form words you question so adamantly.
I shall breathe in the sorrows of yesterday,
And expel them into the words of tomorrow.
I shall write the words I wish to scream.
Why must you write?*
Because, darling, I am a poet
I have no choice
