Why Do I Write...?

Why do I write? Even from a long night; not in bed, tears shed, and no light in my eyes. Insomnia is a vice, but in the end can entice, then persuade and evade the problems i hide. What problems you say? Ive been dealt here a finger, you can call it death from how it sits and lingers. And ive gone through the ringer... The pain, bodies slain and my family left withered. But its god with the tither...wait sorry i mean tether. Up to fate with hate and emotions dealt, then forget my self wealth and also self worth. Wait im better; a person, a future before i cant let the past tore me. Or tear me apart from what i need not, the downships and torment that have ached my heart now. But then again why do i write? Is it the pain on my mind? The stress to say yes to some favors i dont like? But when am i done? When do i stop venting? I cant im presenting my piece to the crowd with opinions just loud! In the end its my work, go critique it yourself. No pain, no shame, with a full bed of health, list the PROS to that CON. Be against that man, dont stand beside that man. Leave him alone, not a bone, not even a can for that man. But here you still stand, the need to triumph in your worth. With your efforts brought forth, you worked hard on this earth i cant knock the souls for that the hard work is in tact. I ask again why i write? This may seem just light, my emotions the core and my words are the might. Words bring the fight, my words bring the pain, my words are the only thing i have to my dismay.