Why do we write?
Do we do this to get the likes and attention
that isn't so easy to get, being ourselves?
Or do we do this to pass our message
to that someone, to whom our words
are shy and we are troublesome?
Do we do this to preserve our
moments that were so handsome?
Or do we do this to let go of the fact
that we lost and were so messed up?
Do we do this to live those dreams that were there
that in reality were nothing but castles in air?
Or do we do this to simply be seen among those men
who are said to be gifted with, charm of poetic sense?
Or is it because
we like to wander in the minds of people
finding those different views of blank paper
diving deep in the comfort of mother nature
feeling the sunlight opening the pores of sensations
and closing our eyes to see a world
that couldn't be better?