Always Four (Not Sure About The Last Line) Poem by Desiree Whitamore

why do people insist we're special
no one is different in this place
how can they say we'll get out
when the red lights never change
where do we go if it's green?
Which path is right to take?
will there be another stop sign?
and do we have the courage to wait?
two plus two always equals four
seven plus seven is fourteen
ourlives are broken a part from now on
there will always be an i in team
do we live on the edge and just jump
or do we sit forever and think?
which is more logical to do?
when you can literally feel your heart sink?
these questions, their answers
no one will ever know
so just follow your gut from this point on
and watch your knowledge grow.