Don't Know - a poem

I don't know what makes me write
Sometimes it just starts to spill
Whether early day or late at night
For release or rhythmic thrill
Words and feelings start to meld
A flower, a poem starts to grow
Things I've done or things I've felt
Through rhyming words I can show
The pain, the joy, the tickled pink
How good or bad it all can be
And through it all I chance to link
the game of life played by me