The Broken Questions

Is there a home for me?

Somewhere in this frightful world?

Is there a place for me?

A place where I can fit?

Is there a reason I am here?

Could someone please convince me?

I see the beautiful put in the ground

And all the ugly are still around.

I hear the good weep late at night

And all the bad just want to fight.

I feel the pain of of restless weak

Who do not know what they could seek.

The rain will come again.

But for now I am grown weary.

7 thoughts on “The Broken Questions

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