I do not write because I want to
Or even because I can,
I write because I need to,
I write to feel again.

These poems arnt just words
With a meaning for you to seek,
These poems are meant for me,
They drive back my insanity.

I can not make things clear,
Nor tell you what I mean,
But these riddles are what I am,
And the problems underneath.

I hide inside their words
And secrets they can't tell,
For I fear the dark within me,
Which nothing else can quell.

This poetry is my mask,
My soul, my heart, my life,
I wrote this because I want to.
I need to feel again.

Where lies once met truth
A shallow secret lurks now,
Although I still ask the question.
The question is simple,
A riddle itself,
Though like this poem,
It's something you must seek yourself.
I looked past love,
Into regret,
Beside the pain,
And through the memories.
I found no answer,
Not one so clear,
But now I know
Why it wasn't near.
My question remains unanswered,
But I don't mind,
My riddle now
Is for you to find.
Seek this truth,
Past love and lies,
And I'll tell you a secret
Of the deepest kinds.