about the why

it might be worth your trouble to sing sweet melodies as your heart speaks,
like that song i hum whenever i'm happy

something in me drove a new song, occasionally i am happy
foolishness written all over my own face, from the pain and suffering
leading myself to spend agony in waste

believe me, if there is anyone in self doubt it's me

however something about the pain isolated me from everyone, and continues to still
interestingly enough, now that my pain is joined with something happy - it sinks like a rock
down to the bottom of a putrid lake

people never like someone who sits on the fence, either be happy or be sad
straight or gay, rich or poor, stupid or smart

but i have never been that way, a curse some would say

my heart sings a much different tune, always locked in the caverns of my mind
looking desperately for answers to questions that i find, note that i never ask any

you might ask why, because my endeavor is to answer my own
foolishness some might call it, for i was the boy that asked too many questions

my father used to tell me "you talk to much, you never shut up"
considering now the gravity of his words, i realize that this is the way of the world

we like to talk, but seldom do we listen --- to my chagrin, i listen too much also
carefully examining the work of everyone, this is not limited to this realm -- although lately it has been

often studying people and trying to figure them out, for i figured myself out long ago - sort of
one would beg to consider that understanding in this capacity would be a good thing, however
when someone tries to share with you, there is incredible difficulty in accepting their answers
"how can you accept answers when you already have them all", another thing dad told me
wise old man

i used to sit in my room as a boy and think about things, never ceasing in my attempts to understand them
my parents were in the other room screaming at each other, or mom was on the way to the hospital ---
another suicide attempt

there was a book, it had c3po and r2d2 on the front (star-wars fans)
it was about supercomputers, back in the days of "i can move move move any moutain",
and "every time i see you falling, i get down on my knees and pray",
i was six years old (1988' to be exact)

somehow there is a fragile curse that has existed in me,
but mine is far different, in fact i have never met someone cursed with it

a combination of an incessantly questioning heart, with empathy unbound
combined with a mouth that never stops talking

perhaps it was the fact that i was made fun of at school, here want something to poke at ---

my family was poor, they gave me hand-me-down clothes from the church and shoes as well
birthdays and christmas were a joke, we didn't even have a television for some time

there was this boy Deke, he used to tease me to no end - punching me and being a little terd
making fun of something new every day; my red hair, freckles, shoes, clothes, the way i talked
i couldn't say "r" very well, had to take speech classes just to master it, girl was the hardest thing for me to say

i have seen someone else writing about how her mother used meth when she was still pregnant
well, my mother used cocaine --- perhaps that is why problems exist within my brain

high school was a trip, i didn't have any friends except for this girl named lindy greer,
she was a little gangsta boo, but wouldn't let me into her heart --- oh how i tried
we used to write back and forth to each other, when i got my first car
i went to go see her, we went together to see her father in the mental hospital
she had about as many problems as i did, if not more
but she told me for my sake, she couldn't be with me
i can honestly say this is the only time i have truly had my heart broken
her spirit was standing on the other side of my mirror,
the only time i have ever experienced that

she was empathy, and knowledge --- wrapped with a big mouth
and i loved her

you will never really know what it was that drove me, not some sadistic desire
truly i just enjoy writing, and somehow yet the curse drives a wedge

sometimes i think that the world just doesn't like to see it's own reflection
and i can't stop looking at my own, hoping to see her on that side of the mirror again

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