Why I Write Poetry
I wonder if I am a poet because I wanted to be
or simply because I can. Is it something chosen
or something that has been thrust upon me?
Is it because I wonder things like how I became a poet
or because there was nothing else for me to be.
I wonder if it’s because I have a thing for words,
strange fascinations with letters and sounds.
Maybe it’s because I like words that sound delicate,
words like “suspended” and “grace”.
Maybe I write because when I try to speak out loud,
my words hang suspended gracelessly in the air.
Maybe I write because I have no other way to express,
no other way to announce, no other way to be.
Maybe it’s because phrases like “caffeinated twilight”
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