Author of Words.

Whatever I write I erase
And then it's gone-- what could it have been?
It might have been something it might have not, and we won't ever know now will we? 
But I spared these words the deleter for the sake of the reader
Because if you read them they will have a reason to be written and though
I've seen many sentences come and gone not one
Knew the reason for their composition
Absolutely none.
Not one. 
The Writer has known
Even before he wrote
Words wouldn't ask about the cause
For a clause a comma a rhyme a pause
Or for the Author's reason for their creation-- 
And if my words would ask
What I authored them for
I wouldn't cry every night
For their broken little hearts
Lost in the dark--
It tears me apart when my words
Ask if their existence is simply fictitious
And without an eternal purpose.