Asking me why I write is like asking a lion why he hunts.

It is a part of me that I embrace not only for my enjoyment but for my survival.

My mind is so preoccupied with things of this world that it needed an escape.

Or my mind would have been too broken for even the best psychological adhesive tape.

The only thing that could save me is my panacea: writing.

I write because it is when I am free.

I thank the Founding Fathers for fighting for that right.

And I thank God for giving that right to me.

For years I have been told what to think and how to think.

But all that changes when I use the writing ink.

Writing is not only my salvation but my sense of happiness, my sense of joy.

It is something I would fight for, my Helen of Troy.

Poetry has given me the gold scepter and told me to reign. No longer do I feel as small as a piece of grain.

“To be or not to be” a few words from Shakespeare that inspired me.

We are not clones, evolution has proven that. If I cannot express my feelings how do I differ from an animal such as a stray cat?

Without writing how do I make my print on this existence?

Writing gives me a never ending urge that never fails with its consistence

But don’t fear my brothers and sisters, I do not write just for me. I write for you and the children that have yet to be.

Who can tell me what to write and how? I am the first child so I have no Big Brother to raise his brow.

I say my needs are above the common poet. Some are poets and they say they didn’t even know it. But my calling always told me what it was. Not just for my enjoyment but just because. Writing is my fountain of truth, my Promised Land.

It is so free, it cannot be planned.

Writing is a part of me, my man in the mirror. It is as if it is a part of my consciousness and couldn’t be nearer.

I asked myself why I write and then I heard myself ask me.