I am a very inquisitive person
I’m just that kind of guy
My favorite sign is a question mark
My favorite word is “Why”
I don’t always get the answer, or even an answer
But I never fail to try
Sometimes my answers are questions
My why begets a why, begets a why, begets a “Why?”
Why do I dream of me walking?
When in my dreams I can fly?
And no matter how I soar,
Why can’t I touch the sky?
I wear glasses to look in the mirror
Why can’t I look me in the eye?
And why is it every time I do
I smile, I look away and I sigh?
Is it because I don’t like what I see?
Or maybe I am just “naturally shy”?
Nope, that’s not true.
Though it’s not often I tell a lie
I look away in disgust of what I see
Can I help it if my standards are that high?!
They slipped quite a bit of late
I used to be a perfectionist in days gone by
I know I have changed. All things change
Yea, and why is it I no longer cry when I’m hurt?
Is it because now it even hurts to cry?
This poem was written/submitted by Ashruf Alwarrag.