Why We Do

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There is a reason why
The word spills on to a page  
The poet speaks his rage
And a silky voice takes the stage

There is a reason why
The poem emerges
Only when the heart surges
Like thunder striking a stream
Each strike a whisper
Every whisper a scream

There is a reason why
The voice strains for a note
An escape from madness
Carrying a world of sadness
In every lyric she wrote

There is a reason why
The artist chooses his brush
When life's passions prove too much
His every stroke
The only rush

There is a reason why  
The poet ponders his world sadly
While his hand reaches for a pen gladly    
A tortured soul 
He looks for her in every word; madly

Even though there is a reason
For every creative lie
No one can overcome the why
The imagined insults of life's cry
That make the lone artist
Decide to try

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