Cut off my arm and I'd still write,
From darkest eve to early light.
Words flow freely from my head
Things I feel must be said.

Who really cares what I may say
'Bout what I've learned from day to day?
Yet, I continue. I write things down
While unaware of time or sound.

Lord, how can I begin to cope?
Am I lost? Beyond all hope?
Still, even when alone and blue
I write. 'Tis all that I can do.