You write cause you’re lonely.
You don’t write cause you’re out,
At a party,
Or in bed
With a beautiful girl.

You don’t write during a candlelight dinner,
Or while you’re gazing at the stars.
You write when you’re sitting around,
Either determined or bored,
Or apathetic in the mire.
But you write, and you don’t stop
Cause it’s in you
And it wants to be let out.