The Kiss of Creativity (Or Why I Write)

As a young girl I had always felt That something was seriously missing From this place I lived called "The Bible Belt." The people spoke, hissing; And some insult was always dealt Whether I was or was not missing. Sometimes I wondered why I simply could not melt. But then I met and kissed a handsome young man Who went simply by one name: "Creativity." As I learned to understand him in my family's minivan, I grew addicted and grew a proclivity To making love with he who did not make me feel "less than." I became engrossed in my new favorite activity; And with his help, I started to formulate a new plan. So I began to grow with each little kiss, And Mr. Creativity helped expose a new piece of me. I understood the insults to mean that “ignorance is bliss,” That the insults don't really define properly, you see? My mind no longer told me that something was amiss, That rather my options were wide open to what I could be. No longer was I left to float in the abyss. From that first day, he helped me to see the light, So I plan to keep him around just a little bit longer. His patience and understanding have made me bright, And perhaps he has even made me ever stronger In the face of those who still try to fight Like the idiot villager with the stubborn fish monger. And that, my dear, is why I write.