Why do I feel misery?
Why is my life
Reflecting a sad movie?
And why do I live in a bad
Memory?
Such a question, that is why?
Nothing so specific
and yet so blind.
People fall apart
From such a small word
Yet they ask it so often
Even to their coffin.
People understand
Lives from this word.
They get answers
They deserve.
Why do we feel pain?
Why does it rain?
Why are people mean?
Why do we want to scream?
Why are people so bad?
Why do our parents get mad?
Why do I feel sad?
Why don't I feel glad?
Why, why, why?
We ask so many times.
Why, why, why?
We don't see with our eyes.
People talk, but don't truly speak.
People hear, but don't really listen.
Why are humans so utterly weak?
And why do I feel like a whisper in the wind?
Why, why, why?
YOU ARE READING
Sure, Thanks, I am Fine
PoetryDepression Anxiety Insomnia Heartbreak Unloved Crazy Scared Joyful Happy Bullied Everything listed here is something I've either felt or gone through. As have many others. But is it easy to say out loud? No, it never is.
