Have you ever asked a bird why does he fly?

Or asked a fish why does she swim?

I am often out of my mind, but these words bring me back again. 

Consistently misunderstood,

But these words...they understand me.

My head is often in the clouds, 

But these words...they land me. 

My obsession for perfection is what unfolds me,

But nobody is perfect and all pain is worth it, 

At least, that's what these words told me. 

My drug of choice comes with alliteration, hyperbole,  and abhors passive voice. 

I get high off of rhyme scheme and each scene I paint in my mind from the picture that these words provide.

They took away my pen and paper and I couldn't sleep through the night. 

I was sweating and going through withdrawls and they had the nerve to ask me, 

why do I write?