I often ask myself that question
Well, I ask it almost very day
Why am I who I am?
Why do I do the things I do?
How is it, that the actions of my youth have created the man that stands before me now?
Why are we?
The mathematical equations should prove that we as humanity should not be
Those with faith tell us that is how we know God is there
Those of us that trust neither party live each day wondering
Wondering who we are
Why we are
Why do people beg for salvation in the arms of a man that beats them?
Why do people save others knowing they will themselves die?
Why do we rob steal and murder each other?
Why do we kill just to see how it feels?
Why do we love?
Is it to feel that warmth as it grows across our chests?
Those butterflies as they race throughout our stomachs?
Is it to create a life and stare in awe into the eyes of the unknown?
Watching in wonder as they stare back
Why have we created such a world where we must work till our deaths so those we love can be happy once we have past?
Happy in the knowledge that their bills are paid
Living in sorrow for the loss of love they now endure
The empty space in the bed
One less plate to set at the table
One less voice to raise your own too
The emptiness screams its silent mantra
Filling your world with the single question
The single question we all ask
When we know….
just how much we have to lose…