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Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #2178303
Why we do what we do
This life I've lived hard at times yet here I stand unmoved, the ugliness is painful it's pleasures cherished lessons many fond memories few

Kind to everyone close to none at times misunderstood, solitude my only friend

Reserved quiet always watching deep in thought I compose

A work of art which provokes emotion the intent, this being the only outlet to my souls content

The curse of a writer has been bestowed upon me of my chosing I'd think no, never the less with pen and paper I vanquish my inner woes
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2178303