I could tell by the morning,
The weather would be daunting and yet so calm.
I could tell that day that the peonies would breathe through the flicker of wind,
And still be going.
Living, death, moving, dead; my body stopped but my mind rocked.
What is happening?

Being taught that we have a right to be here humoured me,
Because I felt I wasn't fully there.
Being taught that love makes the world go around amazed me,
That wasn't true since I felt no sympathy on me, yet I still beg.
Believe us now, or live it miserably.
Are you telling the truth?

Are the bees really here to help our sale of honey?
Are the horses really here to help us travel and teach our children of riding?
Are the aliens really there to keep us wondering?
Teach us that we are worth more than a thousand words,
Before we turn cold, yet have a living soul slowly sinking.
Please, where is my answer?