Sitting and Thinking

I sit and drink my coffee
and I wonder briefly about the universe.

I wonder in more extent about my own self.

If I am what I am and feel what you feel,
then how is it that we can be so different,
yet still so real?

How does my father feel so little
while my mother feels so much?

How did they marry and have all five of us?

If there are really five then why is the fifth so lost?

Why do I wonder if he will ever be found
when everyone else wants to keep him down?

I ask myself questions,
I ask for the answers
but they are all as lost as I am.

As lost as the fifth child is.

The youngest one with no pride left,
no respect,
no place to lay his head.

We are all drug addicts,
convicts,
gold medalists.

Parents and daughters.
I am your son and your sister.

You are a piece of history
and we are the same but as I said,
we are so different.

Is it the years of neglect?

The years of reflecting and regretting?

The days of sinning
followed by a comfortable home welcoming you in
because you lie and lie about where you have been?

We were beaten and told that we’re worthless,
and then you looked at us like you were the hurt ones.

How could you be so lost and confused?

My skin is bruised, your mind used,
yet seeming so fearless; ruthless.

And you tell my I’m loved.

How could you love something yet tear it apart at the seams?

Though if there is a god,

I was made to tear apart from the beginning.
Or so it seems.

It’s all seems so distant.

It all seems like something is, missing.

Why are we all so confused?

Is there nothing that makes sense enough
to bring us together
and make us feel like we’re whole again?

I sit.

I drink my coffee.

I wonder briefly if I should have had tea.

I wonder in more extent about myself,
about only me.

And I realize,
that in there lies the problem of our reality.

When everyone in the end,
thinks only about them,
then how are we ever going to stop the end from coming?