Run Awake Pen

The reason I do things is just because. The reason the ink stains are on my cover are because... Some things just cant be explained. Yet my poems can. I write because it's what loves me. I write because I love poetry. As far as my eye can see poems spawn from thoughtful trees. Maybe. Just maybe my poems are the spawn of me. I won't say anything, because poetry responds for me. I seek what everybody else seeks. Expression and to have a destiny. Be someone if not a nobody. At least do something. That my friend is why I lay beside my pen. My pen always seems to stay awake. Did I mention it cant run away?