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Poem about me and why I do the things I do. |
| Why do I write? You might as well ask Why I swim, Why I love, Why I breathe-- It helps me live, Helps me cope With the madness around me And within me, these voices Telling me I'm nothing, I'm a hypocrite, I'm a failure. It helps me cope Helps me sort out my thoughts And my pain From a heart torn In opposite directions. Why do I write? You might as well ask Why I teach, Why I love, Why I breathe-- It's my purpose, My passion, My hidden source of strength, My style of prayer, My best train of thought. Why do I write? You might as well ask Why I live, Why I love, Why I breathe-- God made me this way, Complete with my flaws My vices, My voices, My weaknesses. Why do I write? For the same reason You speak Or draw Or paint Or sing Or simply sit In silence. Why do I write? To express myself-- To say what otherwise Would remain unsaid. |