Why?
This question plagues my mind constantly,
Always left unanswered.
Come to the think of it, I can't actually remember a time where it ever was answered.
I suppose I deserve it.
I mean, I'm no saint.
I'm not perfect.
I've fucked up before. Big time.
But this time it's not even my fault.
This time, the question ricochets around my brain like never before.
This time, my pain has nothing to do with me...it has everything to do with them.
Why?
Why must I suffer for their problems? Why do I have to depend on them, if they can't even depend on themselves?
Why did their problem send a hurricane through my own?
Why did their problem have to fuck up my life?
Why?
That question, so simple and yet so not, is a master.
A master of making me bleed,
A master of making me cry,
A master of making me scream,
A master of forcing me to do the the things that I hate most in the world.
Why?
Through the tangle of my thoughts,
One question rings louder than all the others:
Why the fuck am I so helpless against this invasion of my emotions,
Of my friends,
Of my family,
Of my sanity,
Of my life?
Ah...back to the start. This question left ravaging through what's left of me...
Will always remain...
No matter how long I search for an answer.
YOU ARE READING
Empty Holes Remain Empty Until the Bottom Falls Out and They Disappear
PoetryThe only way an empty hole leaves is if it takes you with it. --------- My depressing poetry. Feel free to tell me how stupid it is.
