Questions

She asked questions to random strangers,

When she was only in first grade,

And they laughed with a pat on the head,

Saying her curiosity would fade.

 

Yet she still asks,

About vocal cords and rainbows,

And while her parents laugh,

“Sweetie, nobody knows.”

 

When she got older,

No one liked her questions,

And so taunted her,

To start asking different ones.

 

“How to find x in this problem?”

She whispers softly,

And she trapped inside the questions,

That had once made her free.

 

She wrote them down on paper,

“Why are the kids so mean?”

And she finally learned that nobody,

Answers questions from a teen.

 

She tried to rebel once,

And ask what she wanted to know,

But she found the air empty,

Because everyone had to go.

 

They didn’t have time for questions,

Or even for her anymore,

And she trapped all her questions inside,

Closing her mouth which was the door.

 

If someone had just smiled,

And asked,

She would have told them everything,

That may behind her mask.

 

But there are no answers,

For lost teens with dark heads,

Who ask so many sad questions,

While lying in their beds.

 

She tried to open her mouth,

Creaky from disuse,

But all the words that answered the question,

Were just an excuse.

 

If she had enough courage,

And a listening ear,

She would have asked for answers,

That every teen needed to hear.

 

But she couldn’t,

And no one turned her way,

So she kept inside her questions,

And faked through another day.

 

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