A Room A Question And An Answer To life.

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Have you ever suffered alone in your room,

Left with feeling distraught,

A type of half anger a quarter fear and a touch of disappointment.

As life has, as they say, a way to build you up and then crumble

Down around.

Strange! When the previous day was calm even easy.

But today, today is mellow, disorientating, wheezy.

Stuck in your own slumped sweaty body crease.

Your bed is both your friend and a disease.

Daily tasks are struggles not physical but mentally

Nothing stops you from being.

Nothing except the fact your seeing

What no-one else is seeing.

It was a single thought of:

Why are we here?

That set you off on this exponential journey of dread and fear.

That left you in hopelessness, depression in the gut of repression.

The only reason as to why, in a universe so large and infinite

And you so small, so seizing, so indifferent.

The only reason why, could be by accident.

No God gifted word, our life not sent.

Our impact so small, no change, no dent.

We are though something we always forget,

You could say we are in our own lives debt.

We were born from our parents choice but

We grow

By our own.

We decide how to live,

We control our depression our questions

And sometimes the question is not worth testing.

Life is debatable. Yes indeed.

Everything's debatable but not everything should be.

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