Colors Of Gray... - Poem by Mona Willis
I feel, Like I need consolation
Some type of interpretation
But then maybe that itself is the issue
The burning desire to find what man has to say
About god's ways
How can Imperfect man, determine
Determine the truth
Of matters, only god knows
How can we really know for sure?
I feel like a bird
Waiting to spread it's wings out
Yes, I want to be free
Free from all apostasy
But it seems, like there is no cure
From this deathly ring around me
Preventing me, tempting me..
From learning truths.
Is it me?
Is it you?
Is it them?
Is it everyone?
Are we blind?
Are we dumb?
Or are we right....
Seems like every time someone has,
The answer to humanity
Someone else distorts the true meaning
Or is mind control?
Or is it our own stupidity?
Were we made for this?
We were made to wonder why
When we all know we're gonna die
I feel so confused
In a world, that thinks it knows
Was it adam?
Was it eve?
That put this whole thing overseas
Yes it was
So they say...
But is it the true
Comments about Colors Of Gray... by Mona Willis
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- TelevisionRoald Dahl