Not because I cannot live without it,
But because I cannot live with me,
Not because there is a perfect world,
But because I create that perfect world.
Not because I have seen it all,
But because I cannot have enough,
Not because in ink there's plenty love,
But to infest the world is what I want.
Not because you hear my words,
But because I see their works,
Not because it eases my cross,
But because you read me - that's a plus.
Not because I will live forever,
But because like smoke life will be over,
Not because I see the future,
But because this is my culture.
Not because I was born to,
But because ink chose me to,
I write because this is my go to.
Not because of the fruit,
But because I need to speak my truth,
I write to return to my root.
Share This Poem
This Poems Story
Most writers find it hard to describe in few words why they write but the poet explains in few lines why she writes.