Ask me what it means to be alive,
I’ll answer you not
For through the years and back
I’ve been a shell of pain
Walking on a tightrope weighing life and death,
The scars as a mark of the toughest of wounds.
Ask me what it means to love,
I’ll answer you not,
Forgive my manners, for I’ll be face down
Perhaps cursing the day it came my way
How deceitful and unreal it may be,
Broken and tattered it left me be.
Ask me what it means to be happy,
I might have an answer or not,
It starts with me and maybe money
the evil that roams under the name happiness.
A passion for this and one for that,
It’s bitter yet sweet too
Being happy and sorrowful mocks me.
Ask me about life,
It’s black and white,
Of darkness and bright white.
Little did you know,
The answers are limited
lying on only what we told,
What we read, hear, and watch too.
Ask me what I know,
Maybe poetry and penning my thoughts too.
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