Why Do I Write

I do not know why I write again But I know I do not write for schoolboys You think nights are diamond studded Black lace, I do not write for fawning girls who Adore sunsets, but grimace At the thought of umbilicals and blood. I do not write for old ladies Gardening, and pulling up weeds While let the protected serpents live. I write only for the undefiled, Those who see sin and start a forest fire Burning evil in its desire I write for love of children And the rivers in their eyes I long to sail Hunting abusers like men hunt the quail. O but tell me, Why do I write again? Why?