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Written by me for my nephew, Josh. Just a poem about life.... |
What is life, really? What is really here? What is the real meaning of my anger and my fear? What is life, really? What am I looking for? What am I lashing out at? Where is the damn door? What is life, really? What is it all about? What am I fighting? Where is the way out? What is life, really? What is this long hard fight? What are all these feelings that keep me up at night? What is life, really? Who can tell me these things? What are all these emotions that itch and burn and sting? What is life, really? What causes this pain? What is the point of trying, it's like wishing away the rain. What is life, really? And does anyone even care? Where are all the answers? Is this even fair? What is life, really? Who will know the truth? Am I the only one who needs a little proof? What is life, really? I really need to see. I need to find the path to show me who to be. What is life, really? Please tell me what you know. I can't keep going on this way, not knowing where to go. What is life, really? It's a journey, I think. It's all about the anger, the confusion and the brink. What is life, really? And will I ever find the love and peace and joy I thought would be mine? What is life, really? Is it a place, a journey, a road? Will I find it out one day or will I keep carrying this load? What is life, really? I know what I want it to be, I want it to be nothing but peace and love and you and me. What is life, really? Why must I be alone? Why can't I find a fire to warm the chill from my bones? What is life, really? Will we ever understand? I think that I can make it, if you forever hold my hand. What is life, really? 10/30/2002 for Joshua Brian Michael Morrison/Favinger |