All I ever hear
are questions.
Can I move seats?
Can I go to the bathroom?
What are we doing?
Why are we learning this?
It’s a never ending battle
to not collapse
into a pile of dust,
all my life zapped by questions.
Isn’t  that what life is about?
We are filled with questions.
From the time we arrive
screaming into this world,
curiosity beckons us
into becoming.
They ask me questions
and I
in turn
ask more.
We question ourselves
every moment,
every second of our lives.
I can’t stop questioning
why I am here
and not there.
My poetry is littered
with my obsessive curiosity
about your thoughts and desires.
I question.
So do they.
I wonder what questions
you would ask me
if you could.
I would ask you
how you forgot me
so that I might find
the answer to my need
to ask if you love me.


4 thoughts on “Questions

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