Write or Wrong

What am I,

Many do ask me,

Was I forced on this way,

Or did I choose to be.

Some ask for help,

Some ask for advice,

What should we say to them,

‘Cause it would never even suffice.

Some want to learn,

Some want to read,

But words aren’t something,

Which you can ever spoon feed.

From the heart it comes,

Sometimes from the brain,

Try to learn it ever,

Though it might go into the drain.

Those aren’t words,

Which we type or write,

It’s the feelings,

And emotions we cite.

Those aren’t just stories,

We post lengthy on paper,

It’s the thoughts we have,

And those don’t have a helper.

The emotions felt,

From the black ink,

It’s the passion true,

You can’t just have it from a think.

Learning doesn’t help,

Though guidance always will,

Experience is the clincher,

It’s the end you practice till.

I don’t know how this came,

But it’s straight from my heart,

Just a random thought of mine,

I caught before away it could dart.