The Truth in Why I Write.

Writing is my soul, The part that is hidden Dark and light That only escapes for a time. Writing is my true friend, That, even if separated or distant, Will come back to me in my time of sorrow To grasp my arms and shake sense during times of doubt. Writing is my lover, Who caresses me with both logic and comfort When I lay, sit, curl, and depress In the wonder of my own existence. Writing is my enemy, Who knows my weaknesses And plots to prevent meaningful words From being placed from the mind, to pen, to paper. Writing is my mountain, From the highest air seeking inspiration From Gods and Nature, clouds and rain That never takes me for granted like the human aisle.