Why I Write

“Why do I write?” A question, many times, I’ve asked myself But I could never find the words to explain So the Question went back on the shelf Lonely, there it sat Forgotten and overlooked As other Questions were answered The time I had, they took But now the Question is back again No longer willing to be denied So here is my answer, Since from this Question I can no longer hide: I write because sometimes It takes the pain away Lets me show the world my soul Helps me push on to the next day I write because sometimes The words I speak cannot describe The euphoric feeling in my heart The happiness I feel inside I write because sometimes My mind feels blank I need the words to refuel my brain Put the gas back inside the tank I write because sometimes There are too many words in my head They’re prohibiting clear thought And need to be on the page instead. The Question shakes its head Not quite satisfied Confused, I try again And this time I replied: I write because I know That at the end of the day The written word lasts longer Than something I would say Poetry is an outlet A refuge, a home That will always be there for me No matter how far I may roam This is why I write, I said. And the Question looked at me and smiled Saying one last thing before it disappeared- “You’ve known the answer all the while” I grinned, realizing he was right- I had always known That why I write was because I loved to Because it was a way for my feelings to be shown And with that the case was closed That Question I never asked myself again So to finish the story of “Why do I write?” I will say “The End”.