I wrote this poem this past fall and it seems very fitting for this challenge :)

Here goes:

And when they ask me,

Why do you write?

My answer is quick and my answer is from my inmost being.

Because when there was nothing there was writing.

And now when there is something there is still writing.

I think my drive for writing stems from the rotting words in my stomach. They get there for multiple reasons.

"How are you today?" From someone sweet can hurl me into a forty page poem, for example.

Isn't it crazy how easy it is to write involuntarily? Being close to a writer is like painting with someone else's hands.

Sometimes, there are far too many words in my head. Sometimes the words swirl around so fast that my head spins with them. Sometimes those words bump into each other at Mach 10 speeds, and before I can do anything about it, they become phrases and sentences. Sometimes, if it goes on long enough, they might even become paragraphs and stories.

I have found that for the sake of my sanity, it is best that I write them down. It is only after the words hit the paper that they stop moving and I can breathe. My motivation comes from the satisfaction of knowing the I can calm storms with just pen and paper.