In my senior year of high school, my English teacher asked us to write something -- anything -- to submit for our yearly "magazine". It consisted of creative or artist entries by all of us Seniors. So, I dug up a poem I had written because I was inspired during my freshman year when I was 14. While I think I can write, I've never thought that I was much of a poet but this one poem has always stayed with me. It's spectacular writing. I thought so when I wrote it, when I gave it to my teacher, when it was accepted into the magazine and even when I read it again tonight.
Question...With No Answers
Why is happiness so easy to grasp
Yet so hard to hold?
How can love so brief
Pay such a heavy toll?
Why do you walk away
When you know you should stay?
Why is a broken heart
So full of fears,
And bright eyes
Filled with tears?
How do you tell the difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul?
How do you go back
When yesterday seems so cold?
But how can you go forward
When the future is untold?
When will you realize that yesterday is gone
And tomorrow has yet to come?
When will you know
That to forget is to forgive
And to survive is to live?
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