On Writing Poem by Emmet Morgan

Why did I become a writer?
Its not something I became, something I learned from a class, something that was passed down from a father - it was something I allowed
And in allowing, I realised I was the body that allowed it to be expressed.
So I sharpened my mind with the most cutting of words, eviserated and emancipated, my claws dripping with the beautiful poison of fantasy.
I followed its voluptuous dance through the bedrooms of my mind, trying on different costumes and disguises, until I no longer recognised myself.
I questioned where things begin and where they end, the walls of labelisation that crush creativity I pushed against with all my might.
The lake shakes me around like a snowglobe, I'm just a fleck of snow in its controlled universe, but I man my boat well.
I used to get lost at sea when younger, the draw of an undiscovered land calling me with its distant song.
Only a woman beautiful could carry such a note, where its not about power, but poise, mixed with a lick of the lips.
I could never resist, and so found myself stranded many a morning, the sun kissing my neck