I Write

I write because I don’t have a choice

The pen is an appendage, a part of me

I bleed these words just to get across

The bridges burned in time gone by

Burned in the memories of my forever

I write because I don’t have the nerve

To tell her that the strawberry chap stick

Kiss marks still linger on my aching soul

Even though a ghost is what she thinks she is

In this existence we call “The Human Experience”

In this lie we call fate, when I’m only what I create

I write because if I don’t, who will?

This generation of Do-As-I-Please-ers?

The cool kids riding on top of the masses

Classless star-eyed, narrow-visioned teasers

Sentencing their victims to a lifetime

Of sitting in the shadows of the school cafeteria

 I write because HATE lives on the surfaces of empty paper

On the tips of lips alongside words unspoken

On televisions screens promoting perfection as greater

Than the beautiful soul she possesses that I can’t tell her she has

Than the dreams of those lonely underdogs denied

Permission to sit at the table closest to the sun       

I write to ignite the fuse of my once dormant soul

To bring to light the ideas and insights I hold dear

I write because I have to, I want to, I love to

I write because if I don’t

They’ll write me