Questions

Very...very very old poem. Written on August 31.

My head is full of questions,
that leave me asking 'why'?
Feeling so alone, afraid,
and trying not to cry.
I've tried to look on the 'bright side'
but it all just seems so dark.

Just trying to survive,
it seems like such a chore.
Pain, Hate, Suffering, Death,
I wonder what it's for.
I've questioned God, in all his glory
to make things 'right' again.

Sadly, though you say it
I feel as if I have no true friends.
I know that's I'm loved, and I'm in your prayers,
Just a part of me questions, 'why am I here?'

To live my life in background, just a pawn among the rest.
The blade sits tempting, it puts my strenth to the test.
Scars remain, but I won't go back, if the knife touches my skin,
it'll be the end, all goes black, the questions answered.

I search for comfort, but nowhere is it found.
I break down, crying, head upon the ground.
I think 'please, let the test be over', but it's only just begun.
Now it seems that life just can't be fun.

I stay around for one, as he slowly slips away.
I take pride in knowing, that I'm alive today.
But these questions are never-ending,
and I'll always be alone.
I sit alone and cry, wishing for a home.

It's that bad? I know.

I like; nice flow. It's always fun to look at how much you've improved.

i like it