Why do we write
the poems
that we do?
Is it so that
we may express
what’s virtuous
and true?
Is it to show
an accurate
reflection
of who we are?
To soothe our pains..
to process through
our scars?
Is it to give
a glimpse into a world
that might be real?
Is it to grow?
Is it to overcome
our deepest fears?

In truth..
there is no single
gospel truthful
reason..
only rhyme.
Except for..
when there isn’t.
But to God’s palette..
those fruits also taste
just as fine.