Why do I write poetry?

I write, because I found the road less traveled by.

That day in class,

Where I saw my two roads diverged,

I vowed to make a difference.

Why do I pen poems?

I pen, because Hope perches in my soul.

Its feathers brush my heart strings

A melody that cannot be silenced-

At all.

Why do I speak with poetry?

I speak, because I Hold fast to my dreams,

I speak of my dreams,

That they cannot be stolen;

So my life is a strong-winged bird.

Why poetry?

Because I will not go Gentle into that Good Night.

I suppose I am not that wise,

As I do not know that dark is right,

But in poetry, I grasp tightly to the light--

This is how I rage against that good night.