Why I Write

I pick up a pen

Well I used to

Now I find solace

In my keyboard

I rearrange the letters

That Qwerty organised

And I hope that

Those reading it will

Believe that it’s not

The worst thing they’ve

Ever read

I hope that one day

Someone

Will read my borrowed words

And smile, or cry or laugh

I hope that I can write something

That someone will remember

Randomly

In the middle of a lesson

Or while standing in a supermarket queue

Or when they’re falling asleep

And then I’ll know that

I won’t be forgotten

At least my essence

My words

Will live on forever

In the mind of another