For Me

I feel to write,
Its not all work,
but its not all play,
Its not a vocation,
But a function a need,
I know life is short,
Longer now than it seams,
Nothing sombre,
Nothing cold.
A fact that I know,
And a fact that I need.
I’ll live a full one,
Hold on at a moments notice.
Life’s to be let go at ever opportunity.

This isn’t a poem,
I didn’t write it for you,
I wrote it to know,
On my inside is blue,
Its pale green and yellow,
Much brighter than day,
For my writings not work,
Although its not play,
It gives me a reason,
It swims in my lungs,
It gives my hands purpose
My chest can be full.

My writings for me,
But you can look two.
I know this is just word,
I doubt you will see.
But I love these words,
Its simple, But they love me.