Story of Artists and Art

For all the artists isn't this why you create?

First we read to temporarily forget.
Slowly it turns into drugs and we read more.
We fantasize, as if reliefing.
Just like sucidals bleed for relief.

Then everytime we are not,
we wait for the time to run back 
to where we belong.
Just like witches felt peace in woods.

Sudden transition from reading to writing.
Hoping to save a life or two.
Write as if we were to ink the papers with blood,
blood from the endless thought.

Everything that felt like killing us?
In awe and tears we feel rescued.
Like bad blood being poured out!
The only way we feel we heal.

The world sees it as passion 
but actually it is what keeps us alive!
Maybe a read can save two lives?!
Your's and mine.