But now I write just for me.
Now I write so I can see.
Now I write to let it be.
I write to empty a cluttered mind, and to escape the daily grind.
I write to search and I write to find, but I don't write so that I can rewind.
What's past didn't last, what's coming is coming fast, and what's here now simply has me aghast.
I write to create, but mostly to destroy.
I take perfect paper and litter it with words, I fill it with thoughts I may not enjoy.
I write to stay sane, inane, but not plain. The words, my umbrella, from all of the rain.
I don't write for her, nor them, nor you.
I write for me & my demons, and that'll have to do.
A response to Untitled#2