Why? Poem by Mark Heathcote

Why do we hide-our-true emotions?
Ridicule-other's-best-intentions,
why are we like pus, weeping wounds?
Open lesions, spreading infections.

Why don't we learn from our lessons?
Why do we fight?
Why do we kill?
Oh why, oh why, oh why, dear God.

Why do we reserve our innermost feelings?
Till they-froth-in our mouth,
till they gag in our hearts
till they dull in our eyes.

Why are we reserved in our outlooks?
Till our dreams are not our's,
our hopes fill with despair.
Till our self-reflection isn't ours.
Why? Why? Why?
Since childhood, this has made me want to cry.