I never thought
to write again,
after self-doubt
and a loathing
for my words
infected me.

Knife wounds left
me scarred,
negativity to my craft
left me adrift
on a sea of questions.

But I healed.

The bleeding was stopped
by a true passion
for that creative sequence
of thoughts which leads to
poetry.

I healed.
I became strong.

I no longer feel
a need
to justify my work.

I write because.
Just because.