Why Do I Write?

  I write because I love the feel of a pen in my hand;
The way it scratches against paper, smooth and fine,
And those small smudges left behind.
I feel powerful when I write;
To create a world and build it and mold it,
Only to destroy it and make another one tomorrow.

I write because of the nagging in the back of my brain,
When you can see that image crystal clear,
And you know you have to bring it to life.
Or that phrase you keep repeating,
Over and over again.
I feel like that's the beginning of something great.

I write because it's the only way I know how.
It's the only way to express myself,
And those thoughts and those dreams that run through my mind.
My stories are the words I could never say,
The things I've never done,
And the people I want to be.

I write because I'm in pain,
Because sometimes reality just isn't fun.
So I know that it's real and people see my truth,
To embrace it or hate it or fight it.
When I have no one to go to and no one to understand,
I figure I might reach one person wo can.

I write to be inspired,
By something new, or fresh, or innovating.
I want my imagination to shine through the pages,
To create something real that makes you say "wow."
How many times I've said that in my life,
Hoping I could do that one day.

I write for that rush,
Of hitting your stride and writing pages at a time.
When the ideas just come to you like an oncoming wave,
And your frustration acclimates because you can't write them all.
I write for those reasons, every single day.
But mostly, I write because I can.