Why We Write

My Woes! My Woes!

Shan’t anyone hear of my blackening woes?

My pain! My pain!

Won’t one child pay attention to such pain?

Sweet Children! Sweet Children!

Could anyone help feed mine?

However, shall these woes be gone?

By what remedy might I heal my pain?

What bread must I steal to feed my children?

As I yelled this fleet on the city street,

A passerby with a glass in his eye,

Whispered near into my ear,

“Write Poetry”