I have the same questions
to my insignificant life
I allow myself to ask them
knowing they'll cut like a knife

Will they ever be answered?
I have so much doubt
most are the same questions
circling on a roundabout

These many cunning questions
are usually about those things
that often confuse me
and keep me questioning

Frequently they're ponderings
about things that 'just are'
many travel dangerously deep
the distance, too far

Apparently I'm not grounded enough
my Chakra tells me so
I drift off into fantasy
a world I'm not supposed to go

I need this precious place
to ponder many things
I like to fantasise
it's like having wonderful wings

To think about those questions
and the interferences in my life
wondering 'outside my bubble'
a space, like the dead of night

I can question my many thoughts
and my own troubled debates
or about my already written future
Do I trust too much in fate?

Who knows about these questions
they're as close as an annoying friend
I'll continue to spend my time questioning
until my days come to a questionable end