Why I Write

That which separates black and white- a distance of such width yet reeks of height. I smell my fear from a mile away, since at times I become they. They have cliches and sayings of sorts while I lay still and lie further short. Whether capturing every pigment, whether capturing none, infinite-ess I've not yet overcome. Weather it comes, weather it stays, droplets of rain or Rainbow Skittles sun rays. If they color my world, why is there no pattern? The truth stays silent in screeching gray caverns. The only thing I know about wrong from right, is that I learn to know what's right by Write.