Asking why I write is like asking why I breathe

There’s a scripture in my mind that I have to set free

A verbal picture froze in time that I just have to see

The meaning gets deep, but to put it simply

Asking why I write is like asking why I breathe

As long as I’m alive and can hear my heartbeats

I have a pencil gripped tight printing what my mind thinks

Reciting what I’m writing until I know my quotes are perfect

If you think this was exciting then my poem has served its purpose