And why do i write ??..

Alone am I, even on friday
its the same on weekend, same as weekday
I think , but a lot , the words a many
I dont want for them , even a penny
The aloneness in me, triggers me to start
a dim light glowing, and the space and time apart
Music, parties and dance ,ain't my cup of tea
I admire those who go, coz they all are free
so, sitting on my table , typing the lines fast
I dont think there are words, that would ever be my last
writing for me , has now become a passion
like the singing for the birds, like a model's penchant for fashion
There is always a message , understood to be conveyed
A Sequence of happenings, in the memory that stayed

I promise these words are mine, not any else
this poem is yet to finish, but the night wants some rest .