Why do I write?

Why do I write? Why do I want to write?
Perhaps, I have the impulse to guide
Probably, I don’t have other know-how to survive
But most of the time, I feel the urge to write

I pen the emotion; I make a living out of emotions
I’ve developed an obsessive compulsion
Of observing around me many a thing and phenomenon

Sometimes I recollect, sometimes I let me fly
High and high in the imagination’s sky,
A white broad sheet of paper becomes my canvas to paint
On which pent-up frustrations, sometimes, do defecate
One day, I cast gloom
Other day, I predict bloom

All said and done, I write to defy the fear of mortality
I suffer too, from the pang of immortality