Why do I write?
Why does the caged bird sing?
Why did the slaves hum into the cotton feilds?

Why do I write?
What is the point of finding beauty in life,
When I can sit in front of a tv, or a video game?

What is the point of whistling at passerby
Through the bars of my guilded cage,
When I have all the birdseed I could ever eat?

A teacher once taught me,
That our hearts, being confined to our bodies,
Crave a touch of freedom, a moment of flight

Why do I write?
I write, I slam, I speak and jam
to give my heart a bit of respite.