Why do I wonder
How things ought to be?
Would I feel this way
If you had not foiled me?
Should I stay in this state
And wait for your apology?
Could I turn away
Or must I see?
Because all of was
Is a used to be
A river
Of raging sea
I'm so sick
Of this pretending to be
It's contageous
That small possibility
Nothing to do
Nothing to see
Thought I'd wait for you...
I am where I be
Open your eyes
See what's true
Turn around
I stand infront of you
Shut your eyes
And turn around strong
Look back again
And I am gone
A question dotted
In eyes and T's
A question plotted
In hopes to win
A question unanswered
Is a temptations twin
Stop letting him hold on
Tell him the story
So the question can be gone
And the written word
Can be past
For such a grip is not a grasp
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem