WHYS

Why do I have eyes?

When in the dark I cant see

Even the harmony of my feet when I hike

Is it the real picture of terror, of obscurity, of life?

Why do I have a nose?

When I cant even smell a rose among thorns

Is utopia so entwined, so many turns,

so many twists, plenty of sighs?

Why do I have ears?

When all that I hear is only silence or cry

Is serenity this placid, so unknown, so dry?

Is it the symphony of having no life?

Why do I have a mouth?

When it could not even scream my thoughts

Are words these vague,

so imprisoned, so scarce?

Is fear good enough to guard my heart?

Why cant I answer for tomorrow?

Can I not know ahead if there's sorrow?

Does its existence this profound,

so timely to borrow?

Why with so much uncertainty, so much questions,

so much arrows?

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