The Writer

I write rather than bite

I write not to start strife

I write for those hanging to dear life

I write for a wife her husband she left

I write for a husband his wife ran and left

I write for myself searching for answer

To questions you thought doesnt matter

I write for the writer

Whose candle is frozen

The whole winter

Waiting for the hunter

With a bag of plunder

Hungry for dinner

While staring at the ink and paper.