I feel the need to write, come like a hunger,
Then pick up a pen but then it is no longer
There. The words they have all gone away,
I chace them, wanting for them to stay.
Then other times I feel no need to write at all,
But feel the obligation and the words just fall,
Right out of the end of my pen or from finger tips,
But creative words rarely fall from these lips.
Knowing when to write is impossible for some,
Easier for others, and to some does natural come,
It can flow free or be forced, onto the white pages,
Lasting only seconds or surviving through the ages.