Why I Write

I write because,

I like it.

As a child at meal times,

number 6 in 7,

sat like nights round the table,

I was expected to listen,

respect my elders,

speak only when spoken too

and told to wait my turn.

I'm still waiting.

On brave occasions,

when I attempted to engage my vocal chords,

I was cut down,

by swords belonging to bigger brothers,

with bigger tongues

and bigger fists.

Internalisation became not a choice,

but an involuntary reaction

and after years of repetition,

an efficient mechanism,

which still grinds,

all the time.

I can delve,

deep inside,

my own head for hours on end.

I've visited places,

in the deepest reaches of my mind,

I'd rather not,

ever see again.

If I hadn’t of picked up a pen

and pressed the tip of the nib to paper,

It scares me to think,

what I would of become.

I wanted to be the DJ.

My brother was the DJ.

I had to be the MC.

The MC that began to write.

The MC that became the man,

you see in front of you now.

Not just a mike man,

but a young man with hopes and aspirations.

Writing didn’t open the flood gates,

it provided me with a chisel,

to chip away at the wall of the dam.

I'm still chipping.

The first trickle of water,

gave me a pleasure,

I'd never before experienced.

I've since unleashed,

a thousand fountains,

knowing that,

I've barley begun.

The idea that I can write and perform,

and people listen,

is insane.

I just wanted to rid my brain of this stuff.

I never knew I'd like it.