Why I Write

“Why do I write?”
A question, many times, I’ve asked myself
But I could never find the words to explain
So the Question went back on the shelf

Lonely, there it sat
Forgotten and overlooked
As other Questions were answered
The time I had, they took

But now the Question is back again
No longer willing to be denied
So here is my answer,
Since from this Question I can no longer hide:

I write because sometimes
It takes the pain away
Lets me show the world my soul
Helps me push on to the next day

I write because sometimes
The words I speak cannot describe
The euphoric feeling in my heart
The happiness I feel inside

I write because sometimes
My mind feels blank
I need the words to refuel my brain
Put the gas back inside the tank

I write because sometimes
There are too many words in my head
They’re prohibiting clear thought
And need to be on the page instead.

The Question shakes its head
Not quite satisfied
Confused, I try again
And this time I replied:

I write because I know
That at the end of the day
The written word lasts longer
Than something I would say

Poetry is an outlet
A refuge, a home
That will always be there for me
No matter how far I may roam

This is why I write, I said.
And the Question looked at me and smiled
Saying one last thing before it disappeared-
“You’ve known the answer all the while”

I grinned, realizing he was right-
I had always known
That why I write was because I loved to
Because it was a way for my feelings to be shown

And with that the case was closed
That Question I never asked myself again
So to finish the story of “Why do I write?”
I will say “The End”.


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