On Why I Write Poem by Matthew Holloway

On Why I Write



Why is it that I write?
Is it so I don't go mad?
Some people find me a little strange
But I have openly accepted that way
of life, living, writing, toying with sanity
Madness itself could be art
A beautiful expression of a wild soul
unhinged and free to exist
perhaps in writing I suppress that
or embrace it, I fail to remember which
Are there little pieces of thoughts
Wicked and beautiful in contrast
To a wonderful backdrop of nothing
That enjoy such gamesmanship
why is it that I write?
all of this and more besides

Sunday, April 5, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: poetry
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kelly Kurt 05 April 2015

Wow! Matthew, you pretty much defined my reasons as well. Great job. Thanks for sharing

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Matthew Holloway

Matthew Holloway

Cheshire, England
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