We ask ourselves

Why I



Am I skinny, tall, fat

Why must I suffer the intensity



of a yell



The complexity of a broken home



Why I



Have parents that have the epiphany of hope

Yet im hungry always



Why I



Am I from a dead father

Who is alive in this present world

But calls to me lands on deaf ears



Why I



Sit here looking for help

But just get calls but no answers

No real feeling to my



Insides



This carcass that bears a dim soul



Why I



I have this dark skin, black eyes and short nappy hair



Why I



Have ancestors who cried blood died

yet the world is not a different place

or the image so many people hope pray to see



but yet is blank...



Why I



Must I find enlightenment in my own poems, songs

Yet cannot find comfort in my own blood mother



Why I



Cry more than most do, love more,

become attracted more...

Suffer more



Why I



Have to be stuck here alone fading distant but close



Why I



Am I stuck in this limbo

this living hell

When will that light shine bright

above the highest mountain top



Why I



Experience happiness but cannot grasp it



Why I...



God why I !



Am surrounded by these people who

look but do not see the anguish

here but do not listen to me



cry out rebirth, freedom,

light from these chains on life



talk but do not speak

the words of my survival, my destiny



To overcome....



Why I



After writing do not feel better,

just see empty faces that see another conflicted kid



Why must i live above the stereotype

of living and free to do Whatever I want



after the age of 21



Why am I here right now?



Why did that glorious god of ours put me here?



What is my ultimate purpose?



Am I destined to be empty

a shell that cannot socialize with my own kind

that cannot fight me...



me.



Oh lord, torture me so with the best weapon, myself

see the tears, the scream that will not come



God!!

Why give me this gift

of pen but only as a release from my pain



Its not working...



What if the blood of the innocent

can run through my veins

While like a stallion yet



controlled patient



We ask ourselves



Why I



Am I skinny, tall, fat

Why am I

blessed with the beauty of god

but cursed by his anger



Why am I

sitting, spilling myself on a piece of paper

but still feel constricted,



Stuck in this limbo

hell on earth

but a glimpse of heaven...



As I write



I pause for a reply