The Inside

I write for I love it.

I write what I felt.

I write for I feel free.

I write when my emotions permit me.

I write not because I'm bored.

I write because I am endowed.

I write to conform and to inform.

I write to entertain and to what I can attain.

Superficially, I felt like that.

But in my inside, there are secret reasons that sat.

The myriad reasons why I did write.

The same reasons that I covered with blithe.

Inside me...

I write to ease my bruised heart.

I write to soothe my pent-up feelings for a start.

I write to vent my emotional baggage.

I write to liberate my heart that's in a cage.

I write to occupy my thoughts.

I write every screaming sentiment I caught.

I write to cover the negative notions in my mind.

I write every little idea I can find.

I write to keep loneliness at bay.

I write to keep insanities away.

I write what I can't say.

I write when my vocal fails me.

I write to be understood.

I write every time I could.

I write when I never should have.

I write for it is my countless emotional wound's only salve.

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