Not because of pain
or love
or superior disdain,
or manic anxiety
or passing despair.

Not because we seek the answers,
or have found one,
but because we know there are too many,
and there are none.

Not for the acclaim and derision,
but to let loose the visions
that batter these walls,
threatening with innocent malice
to tear them down.

Not because we love our craft,
but because we have no other,
and because these words
support, yet destroy.

Not because of anything,
but because of everything,
and because we simply must.
This is why we write,
this is why we hurt.