Why Do I Write?

Why do I write? Why do I breathe? What makes the tide rise only to fall again? What makes the moon caress the night? What makes a heart love? When I write, I let myself become what I am too afraid to be at any other moment. When I pick up my pen, I wield my words with the bravery of Lancelot as he wielded his sword. When I pour my heart on the page, I tell my love story as though it would rival Juliette. When I dream on paper, I stand With those who look to better world. Every moment I spent in silence is forgiven As I speak with words of eloquence and fluency. Writing is my first language, my native tongue, it is where I am home. When I write I am Bold Courageous Unafraid Undaunted Unashamed Every moment when I was too shy to say hello to my true colors Fades into the floor as I immortalize my words in Jet black ink. When I write I give a voice to my spirit That was once muted by my pride and my fear. When I write it gives ears To the deaf critics who had once shut me out With their mocking silence. When I write I give sight To the blind eyes of indifference That see the world without color or emotion. When I write I can taste what the world has to offer. When I write I can touch the hearts of strangers. When I write my mortal flesh Speaks immortal words that will outlast The test of time. Why do I write? When I write I am who I am: Young Hopeful Enthusiastic Full of life Full of love I am alive I am myself I am a writer