I don’t know why lies are so much easier to believe.
I don’t know why I put pen to paper, or open my mouth to speak
I don’t know why I am asked for truth, while they secretly redefine honesty
I don’t know why I am compelled to play along with that disingenuous and rather vague presentation of assistance and support
I don’t know why we are presumed to be so easily maneuvered into a collapse of our constancy, our integrity, our very common sense
I don’t know why anybody would steal a life, and I don’t understand why I can’t steal it back
I don’t know how many memories I have forgotten, in my desperate quest for escape
I don’t know how a battle is fought when the war is born from a lie
My heart, in all it’s cold ferocity, aches unbearably in its lonely confusion I don’t know why I can never dance in front of you
I don’t know why God pulled you away, or why I can’t do anything about it
My love, I don’t know why I couldn’t make them understand, I don’t know why my tears were exploited
I don’t know why I couldn’t believe that justice would not prevail
I don’t know why innocent lives are pursued with such deadly intent, or how simple truth can be so categorically ignored
I don’t know how to explain to my children that the country of freedom or the system intended to uphold it
are a myth. Nothing more than nostalgia, a bit of whimsy, a dream
Right. Wrong. Good. Bad.
I don’t know why such simple principles are so used and abused, so filled with foggy gray areas and predjuce
I don’t know why it is so difficult to see a person, instead of a paper, or to ponder the possibility that there are other possibilities
Your mother asks me questions to which I have no answere. I don’t know when you will come home. I refuse to even allow myself to consider the alternative.
I cannot even fathom the idea…My own psyche will not allow the idea to materialize…my chest constricts, my muscles clench, my head begins to spin
I don’t know if I want to know how to be strong enough for that