The reasons why I write are endless.
There's something in me that can't help it.
I write for all those silent; full of thoughts but no voice.
At this point, my brain thinks on auto so I don't have a choice.
I write now by force, my words scream til they're hoarse.
now I plead with remorse for neglecting them.
so I write again.

& these thoughts within, get so painful, I cringe.

So my only relief is to write again.