Questions And Answers Poem by Phil Soar

I wrote down the questions I wanted to ask
But my poor little brain wasn't up to the task
The message was clear, I was vacant inside
Nothing but emptiness wounding my pride

So my deep intuition and the answers I sought
Would just be ignored, and less knowledge be caught
I sat on the sofa and explored what I could
I decided my brain must be nothing but wood

No matter how much I thought that I could learn
I'd just have to settle for nought in return
With a brain made of oak, and a mouth uncontrolled
I guess all the answers are out in the cold