My Key

I had a lot of problems the last couple of years.  They were of the sort that sent me a little round the bend, off the beaten track, this sort of thing.  I'd had a little chemical assistance in keeping sane and still not managed that very well.
Starting writing last year saved me.  This is not a dramatic overstatement, though it may sound that way.  This is the truth as I see it.  I struggle vocalising anything I feel and it comes out in frustration and tears, but writing has helped me find my voice.  I've found a way to say things that I couldn't get out before and for that, I'm grateful.  I can't see a day I ever stop writing even if everyone tells me that every word is utter nonsense.  Because it's not about anyone else.  It's a selfish pleasure and I love it.
This is a poem called Why Write that I performed at the gig in the Jean Stansfield Memorial Park.
My poetry is just for meAnd not for no-one else.I write for love, not praise or food,But I'm happy if it sells.I write because inside my mindI'm tortured and messed up.I write because I need to breatheTo gasp without hiccup.I write because my tongue is tiedI write because I'm lost.I write because my heart's in bitsRegardless of the cost.I write the things I long to say,Because it's ten to nine,I write to answer my questions,Oh babe, your place or mine?I write to sooth the chatteringRaging inside my head.I write because I can and will
So I'll write until I'm dead.