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Why

Why

What did I do?

I love you.

You love them.

She loves you.

At least....

 

She says she does.

You two seem perfect.

A cady coated happy ending.

Thats what it seems.

What about me?

Where's my love?

 

Him?

He loves me?

Do I love him?

I don't think so.

He's not easy to love.

Not many good qualities.

No special abilities.

Why should I get him?

He also loves another.

 

Why are we together?

Should I end it?

Why?

Can't I choose?

Don't I deserve happiness?

Don't I?

 

Why not?

Did I do something?

Are you more deserving?

Do you even love her?

I know you love another.

 

I know.

She doesn't.

I do.

What should I do?

Should I tell her?

Why does the thought,

Break my heart?

 

Why do you break my

lonely heart?

Am I broken?

Can I be fixed?

What's wrong?

Why?

 

Why does she chase you?

We both know we can't have you.

Why try?

Because we feel.

More than ever before.

At least that's how it is for me.

 

For her.

I think it's an obsession.

A race.

Who gets him?

Her.

That's what she thinks.

That's what she says.

She mocks me.

She hates me.

She loves me?

 

As a friend, she says.

But really?

Is that true?

No.

She hates me.

More than I hate myself

for loving him

more than I should.

Why?

 

That's my question.

Why?

Because everyone understands.

Not me.

I ask why.

Because I wish to know.

To be the one who

truly knows

who understands it all.

 

Knows.

Why?

How?

When?

Where?

Here.

That's where.

How?

I do not know yet.

When?

Now!

Always!

Forever I will ask

my questions.

Will haunt you.

Forever.

Why?

 

Because I wish them to.

Because I say so.

Me.

My decision.

Mine.

No one else's.

No one.

Just me.

Why?

 

I need them to.

So I will be remembered.

Not as a nothing.

A normal girl.

But that's not me.

I am the girl with questions.

Always questioning.

Always.

Forever.

Request permission to use this poem
t
Written by
tori-elizabeth-cook
American
Published
May 19, 2010
Lines·Words
114·341
Notes

Very long sorry I was journaling through poetry.

Permission

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