Question marks

My life is a sheet of paper,
With question marks across it.
Page upon page my life just wont change,
Some writing here and some writing there.
Words scattered across the pages like problems upon my life.
An exclimation mark points out exsitement,
But notice there is none of those events,
Just question marks with no answers.
My writing expresses it all,
But doesnt answer my calls.
Yesterdays questions become todays problems,
And todays problems become tomorrows downfall.
The day I stop asking is the day I win,
The day where depression is no longer an issue,
Those days have yet to come,
And my life has been done.
Whether this is labeled as another problem,
Or just another question mark upon a page,
Its hurting and bringing me down,
And I cant fight it.
Cant win.
If only I had a fire to rid of my questions and turn them to ash.