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.
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?