Sometimes all these words and thoughts,
Of joy and love and rage,
They fill my head to bursting,
And then spill across the page,
I write for pleasure, I write for need,
I write for a release,
I write to show you how I feel,
I write to gain some peace,
Sometimes I'll spend many days,
On unresponsive verse,
Before giving in and mourning,
As it leaves by way of hearse,
And other times I barely think,
As my pen darts to and fro,
And poetry is simply formed,
The words they sometimes flow,

This poem contains no joy or loss,
This poem is simply seeks,
To explain to you just why I write,
Where others simply speak,
I'm a poet of necessity,
A creature of the ink,
I need to write, it fuels me more,
Than food or sleep or drink,
So these verses are my prison,
And my savior too,
This might seem overstated,
But I know this much is true,
So when I feel the familiar urge,
I'll still reach for my pen,
And record my thoughts and feelings,
Time and time again,

I write for pleasure, I write for need,
I write for a release,
I write to show you how I feel,
I write to gain some peace.