Why do I write?
Because it is the thing that lets me be creative
Why does anyone write poetry?
It's a song one can sing without knowing the correct notes
It keeps us occupied when reading Dr. Seuss
It lets us remember silly things from our youth
I can say little things in rhyme like
"My mum and dad/ are quite mad
"And it's not so bad/ They've worked for what they had
Slip through their fingers like my brother
Who's finally found God after all the partying
Slip like my baby sister finding herself
Floating in the middle of school hallways
Ignoring kissing kids and kids too young to know how to roll a condom on
Which leaves me worried about her safety
This is why I write
Because it's a release from the stress, not unlike a self-harm session,
according to my own stats from friends' experiences
It's an endorphin rush that wipes away my stress-induced tears
Why do I write?
Is it the light in the dark, or the blade of a sword,
Cutting at the diseased pieces of me?
Is every poem I write about strength a cry over my own weakness?
Is everything from my mind about hope, a scream about my hopelessness?
Are the sonnets and ballads of love a sobbing plea
for someone, maybe,
to love me?
My heart is filled with a longing that words can't fulfill
But placing my pencil to page, tracing the words when complete,
Makes the heart weep more softly
It makes the ache dull
And for a moment, I'm free
No-one's correcting me
I don't focus on being perfect, perfect, perfect
and how people expect me to be
When I write, my shackles, self-imposed by my teachings,
melt in the palms of my hands, and I'm not lost any-more!
I can sing my song, and I need no-one to understand!
They don't have to!
I can pour my feelings into the Muse and give myself guidance,
not the doctor who recommends counseling,
nor the parents that say "Get. Over. It."
I write because I can immortalize his lips against the back of my neck,
her hand caressing my cheek in a sonnet,
and remember once, that I was loved,
and in love.
In the moments of harsh adulthood, I can write a ballad of faeries,
Father Christmas bringing sweeties and pies,
Las Posadas and listening to the musical lights of the tree.
I can compose limericks of days when my family was whole,
and crying was a rare thing,
"hate" an uncommon word.
The simple tanka poems are my thoughts,
unrestrained and wild like the fire on the angel's sword in Eden,
and not ignorant of the world, free to explore;
Why do I write poems?
Because they don't have to be anything
They are the simple history of emotion,
an imperfect beauty that reflects the perfection of the heart
Like everyone and me, it is wonderful
Yes... That is why I write.