Why?

Why does it feel that there's something more to life?

And why does it fell that something's outta sight?

Why does it take so much soul to find the way?

And why does it still turn out to be the wrong way?

Why is it so we never feel we have enough?

And why is figuring out a want from a need so tough?

Why is it that we do so many things to be happy?

Without knowing that its just love that we need to be happy.

No Aim

This is a poem written by me, in my college days, pretty amateurish or abstract... whatever...

BLACK ROSES AND DARK WATERS,

I CANNOT FATHOM
WILL I SURVIVE THESE TORTURES.

SUNKEN HOPES AND A HEAVY HEAD,
AM I ALIVE OR BRAIN DEAD.

DON'T KNOW WHY I'M HERE,
OR WHAT I HAVE TO DO.

MY MINDS NOT CLEAR,
I'M ALL BLUE.

COLD WINDS AND RED SKIES,

I DON'T UNDERSTAND,
ARE THEY FINE, OR FOR MY DEMISE.

WILD THOUGHTS IN MY HEAD,
WITH NO AIM, I'M I GONNA BE DEAD.

WHY HAVE I WRITTEN THIS AIMLESS POEM,
TRYING TO MAKE THINGS RHYME.

DON'T KNOW, MAYBE JUST TO KILL TIME.