My Questions


What dreams prevail against the night
when sleepless in my bed
I lay myself out flat to fight
the mem’ries of my head?

Unpleasant visions swell within,
and I must ask someone:
What worth is life when all that’s been
has been under the sun?

What makes a rose something adored
that I can feel it not?
What makes a man something abhorred?
How come alive I rot?

What dreams prevail against my night
when waking or asleep
my life is darkness without light,
a pit forever deep?

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