Monday, October 5, 2015
The truth we can't find in our pen caps
I suppose all my searching
is done in the wrong places
the truth
that is hidden in plain sight
the truth of terror,
of heartbreak
of sin
of love
the truth that lies
right outside my window
I have yet to break
the truth we can't find in our pen caps
the truth that comes when you see a homeless man
walking in the rain
or an old lady
sitting alone at the park
or social injustice
that fills the wounds of soldiers
and I rise
from my bed each day
but fall into it
again, 12 hours later
I still do nothing.
the truth at funerals
at weddings
at birthdays
starts to feel like looking
into a dusty mirror
my soul begs me to see.
but he intensity
of what it is to be human
isn't something i can do anything about.
Yet I ask the same question over and over
Why me?
I beg for an answer
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment