A Question

I have a question, though from my breath it falls

It dances across the tongue, seeking simple thoughts

My voice it holds, then it blows, creating little squalls

 

The thought fills and flows, ’til mind no longer recalls

It lasts long within the lung, words beginning to clot

Air finally let’s go, just before the darkest walls

 

In my throes, the question returns, and stalls

It won’t be sung, refuses to be caught

I bow down low, taking a knee at the pitfalls

 

Speaking slow, I spread my hands and crawl

Feeling strung, I know not what I sought

The fated blow, refusal grabs my soul and hauls

 

Pain to my toes, wretchedness calls

To the crowd I’m flung, all this time for naught

The stairs glow, taking me to other halls

I will grow, throw myself off more waterfalls

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