Why do I write?

I write because

I hurt

And constantly

Question

My worth.

For through

All of my intimate

Ambitions

I have devastating

Failures

But I compensate for those

Failures

With that alike

Trailers

Of movies

That I piece together in

A quiet

And indefinite

Source of

Poetic justice.

I don’t wish to

Thrust this into

Your heavily armored

Chest

But if my words

Open the breaths

Of your awe

Then I will have truly

Worked a

Wonder.

Ponder with me this:

Every infinitesimal

Dot

Creates pieces

Of a line

And the line forms letters

And the only thing that

Betters

This ideal is that the

Letters

Form words

And when I

Transcribe

The verbs of the words

Into a

Whole

Is when you

See the

Reasons

Why I write.

For I do not simply

Write

Due to a sorrow

But to

Antagonize

My sorrow

And create a better

Tomorrow

That will be filled

With will

And will build upon

That will

And make me

A better me.

And maybe they

A better you.

I do

To my truest

Nature

What I

Can

To

Ease my mind

Flow those thoughts

From behind

And

Use the thoughts

To stretch down

My back

And scratch

The sorrow that

I cannot

Reach.

Some write for attention

Others want a mention

In some sort

Of a book

Or paper

To give them credit

For something that

Doesn’t

Poetically

Touch their emotions.

People who

Understand

The wrath

The ease

The mercy

And the

Power

Of poetry

Can grasp that

Those

Are those who

Write to entertain.

I seek only

Rehabilitation

Due to

A

Life

That isn’t

Backwater streets

Or broken homes

But a life

That gives

A struggle

That

He

sees fit

To me.

Therefore I write

To preserve

Myself.

And to

Will

Myself

My survival.