I Write

Like a cloud of darkness Or rainbow of deceit A single soul can’t harness, No one can defeat The energy that fuels us The synergy in the air Impossible to assess With its power and its flair. A person cannot answer But a pen can lend its aid to release the horrid cancer give relief to wounds it’s made. The world is dark and dangerous Most suck it all inside. But a writer is most courageous Letting it out, never to hide. Pour words out onto paper To find that sweet relief To show the world your power With a pen of truth unsheathed. I write to write the sadness I write to tell the truth. I write to show the madness And to give the world some proof. Maybe it’s just me Who feels the vile pressure But look around and see Lest be ignorant and demure. The boldness of a writer Can be mistaken for weak pride but a writer never tires to the art they are thus tied. The world is muse for un-mused A power for our pens It lets us express and enthuse To let you see through our lens. I write to show you raw fact. I write to understand. I write to show you my pact With the art which moves my hand. Writing is a power That many do not possess It allows us to tower Over those who could care less. We write to be together We write to feel the same We write to forever tether Our souls to what remains. For maybe our words can save us From what the world is now And maybe our pens can thus stress Our need, our plea, our vow. I write simply to tell you What writing means to me. Each word I give can show true What you need to look and see.