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.
Day 9 of #OctPoWriMo brought a prompt that really made me think. For today I was challenged to write about why I write. Why do I continue creating poetry (or short stories, or any sort of writing). Why? Read the poem. It answers the question. Please enjoy.