A writer writes because she is a writer.
She writes for her pain,
her search for value,
her temptation to lust.
A writer writes because without words, there is no life.
She writes for her mother's warm heart,
for her father's rough fist,
her lover's luscious secret.
A writer writes because she feels passion dripping from her fingertips.
She writes for the blood that leaks from her soul,
the burn that presses on her hand muscles,
the thudding that flicks in her chest.
A writer is a great writer because she writes.
If she only thinks about writing,
she is not a great writer at all.
She is merely a great thinker.
And without words to write down, thoughts are useless.
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