I ask a lot of questions it's
A rather ingrained trait
Some let answers come to them
To which I say, "That's great!"
Perhaps they do not feel the burn
The itching need to know
The all-consuming wonder which
I struggle not to show
It took me years to realize that
Most do not long to see
Many are content to let
The unknowns of life be
Yet still I lie awake at night
With questions on my mind
Even when I know that there's
No answer I can find
Will I ever find the one
Who thinks the way I do?
Who wants deeply to know me and
To be known by me too?
YOU ARE READING
Poems to Leave Streaks of Ink
PoetryAnd I'd rage at the monsters, But that's the task of fools, Who cannot bring themselves to know, Monsters are humans' tools... I write poems like this, just usually longer...feel free to give some of them a read:)
