Five Questions
What is it?
This power, this magic,
The finality is tragic.
When did this occur?
The hour, the second,
The day, the lesson?
How was I to know?
What was real, what would grow,
What was sacred, what time would show?
Where was I?
In my own imagination,
Running from temptation?
Who am I?
Confused, bummed
Feeling lonely, feeling dumb.
The reporter’s seem to think
These questions create succinct
Facts among the lies
And open viewer’s eyes.
Well, I think after years
Of asking these through tears,
The truth is too far gone,
And only memories still live on…
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