My Poems

I'm not sure if this is the place to put this, but here goes.

Why Do We Fall?

Why do we fall?
Fall from our sky
Go from a soar to a crawl
Surrender our will to fly?
Why do we give?
Give up our flight
Our only reason to live
And exchange it for this plight?
Why do we tear?
Tear off our wings
Choosing not to wear
These our most glorious things?

What Is A Dream?

What is a dream?
Is it a hope
Or are they more than they seem?
Are they, in fact, concrete?
Something that can be touched?
Or is that description incomplete?
Are they more than simple thinking?
Could they make our very souls,
Or do they simply keep us from sinking?
Are they nothing at all?
Maybe they are everything at once.
But they never let us fall.

Questions

Questions litter the air,
Never answered, never heard,
Some think they aren't really there,
and others find it purely absurd.
But still they flutter,
Seen by only those who let them roam,
Always haunting those who mutter,
But they never find a home.
Why do we never find
The courage or the kindness
To reach into our mind
And seek to cure our blindness?
When will we see that if all of us
Work to help these tiny things,
They can silence all the fuss
And bring a joy that sings?
What is the answer,
For there is only one,
That can cure this cancer
And undo what's been done?
Who is the person,
If it is not us all,
Who can teach the lesson
That could stop our fall?
Where is the ending,
If it is not already here,
Of this deadly turning
That is caused by fear?
How can we escape,
If there is a way,
Before it is to late,
To save what Fate may?

The Liar

He hates himself enough
To kill himself but never die.
He thinks that life's to tough
To do anything but lie.
In his life he sees no purpose
But to cause him pain.
Those he tries to draw close,
His life, they seem to drain.
Why does he continue on
Through this dark and dreary land?
He must see hope is long since gone,
Worn from this deserts sand.
Can someone on this Earth
Find a place of healing?
Few are those can give rebirth,
And fewer still are willing.

The Thief

A thief in the night,
Seeking my treasure,
Causing me fright,
And inflicting pain without measure.

A thief in my mind,
Taking my thoughts,
Leaving nothing behind,
But empty broken lots.

Sadness

Sadness fills my mind and soul,
And consumes my core.
Dousing me like a wet coal
In a puddle on the floor

"Why do you feel this way,
When it's all going well?"
I'm asked this question every day,
When I'm in my cell.

Hate sparks far behind my eyes,
Burning in my mind,
Throwing ash into my skies
I can no longer find

While the fire burns my head,
Cold eats at my heart.
Dark ones, through my mind it threads,
And the good depart.

Life

What is a life,
Can it even be defined?
Does it simply cause strife,
Or is it so confined?

Why do our hearts beat,
What is the purpose?
If we suffer such defeat,
And we cannot keep our focus.

Where is the meaning,
That is often claimed to be?
Is it to send us careening
Into a a wall no one can see?

Who can find an answer,
That can sort out all this history?
Who will take a chance, sir,
on this age old mystery?

When will this be over,
This chaotic, lengthy run?
Most of just tend to hover,
While some touch the sun.

How can we grow stronger,
Than the feeble things we are?
Could it be we must run longer,
To stay right where we are?

The Balance.

Is there a balance
Between light and dark?
Could there be a chance
For hope to spark?

Is there a Yin
To balance the Yang?
Is there a sin
For that son you sang?