thisiswhyiwrite
Learn more about other poetry terms
I write because I fear the cold grasp of death;
I write because I fear the thought of a black abyss;
I write because I fear my own mortality;
Wait.
You have a problem with the way I dress?
The way I pronounce my words or treat other women with respect?
It's cold; hard winter but there's blazing heat
The passion of young love feels so alive,
Why, does grass growThe sun rise when it drinks the darkness of the nightA wound mend and scars fade
Why, do people smileThe birds chirp on a bright summer dayA dream take us away
