People hear me express

Myself in different ways.

Words, shouts, song.

It’s just I’ve got so

Much to say!

My talk sometimes has success,

And other times a “stop it, no,”

Because I babble all day long.

Yet all alone,

Who am I to talk to?

The walls, the bed,

Or perhaps paper is better.

Just to say “I’m through!”

Or cool off my bones.

Write out a letter

To one day be read.

So I write and write

To organize my thoughts,

Plans, and all that.

To hear myself think,

Or to plan a plot,

To get over a fight,

To see how things link,

Or just have a chat.