Why do we persist in this endeavor?

Is it to show how smart we are?

Must we prove that we are clever?

Or intellectually set the bar?

Have we come to join our bretherin?

To merge with spirits like to ours.

Poetic souls perhaps lost kin.

Some to while away the hours.

Why do we suffer all this pain?

To satisfy this never ending itch.

That scratches on my inner brain.

This poetic tormenting Bitch.

I wish that I could say it is Love.

The reason that I write.

But really if I don’t get it out,

I wouldn’t sleep at night