I Write Because,

Spoken words are often not enough,

                Especially, when times are really tough.

It is easier trying to speak

                When you write it out in ink.

My hand is closer to my heart,

                So the words hit nearer to the mark.

Often, my mouth will move without my bidding,

                But the pen in my hand writes words that are spinning

                With truth and life.

The words I write are either flowery or frank,

                I am the author, and I choose to leave nothing blank.

It takes time and effort to write,

                but to speak is simply trite.

I Write,

To let my thoughts escape without blowing off someone’s head.

To remind me of the memories I’ve made,

                Without allowing them to fade.

I Write because it’s me.

I Write because through my pen, I create words that can be read

                For years to come, even after I am dead.

So much easier it comes through my hand, and so much easier it is to understand.

Through paper and ink, I pour out my heart. 

And that is how it will be, until the day that I depart.

This, is why I write.