Sometimes there's no explanation for suffering.
You can't reason a purpose for the last breath, bullets exploding from their chamber, or a silent exodus of a soul.

When our hearts are tortured,
When oxygen turns into an enemy instead of a reason for being alive

We search.
For purpose.
For reason.

That doesn't exist.
Not on this side.

There's no good reason for losing soul mates or hope.

Its a broken world we're traveling through.
And sometimes the cracks catch the vulnerable and the broken

Another bad break, poor luck for the luckless.

But it never stops us wondering.

Why. God. Why.