I write, but I may be wrong

So I cross things out as I go along

Sometimes I will uncross too

Go back, revisit, start anew.

I write, but I may not know

The proper style or way to go

To free the feelings that I feel

And portray them true, with zest and zeal.

I write, but sometimes I ask

What is the purpose of this task?

Does any body realy care

To see and hear what I have to share?

Bits and pieces of me, my soul

Writing helps to keep me whole

It's such a never ending plight

I may be wrong but I love to write.

 4/2019