I'm only still when I'm thinking, but sometimes I think while I move.
What happens when we are born into circumstances that try to pin us in a box, pin us down?
When parents and friends tell us who they think we should be, mirrors of their broken selves?
What happened to men who knew their own hearts?
How I long to know mine own, to teach and inspire my future, younger kin.
Why don't I chase after those who make me come alive?
Why do I sit?
Why do they leave?
What have I done?
Why don't people ask the hard questions?
Why do I feel desensitized?
Why can no one relate?
How do I know thousands of people, yet few know me?
How do I discern who is trustworthy?
How do I trust without certainty?
Why won't I post this where on Facebook where everyone will read it?
Who invented the question mark?
That bastard.
hey now. question marks are the bomb. i love them lots.
ReplyDeletemany of the same questions i have pondered
ReplyDeletedude, that's pretty intense man. definitely some questions i have thought about before.
ReplyDeleteoh yeah, and i'm going to see how this blog thing turns out : )
You're a poet.
ReplyDeleteYou. Me. Phone. Soon.