Why do I hang on the past

when I know I should look forward?

Why do I care so darn much

when there is nothing to be offered?

Why do people believe in fate

when in truth, no such thing is real?

Do things happen for a reason,

or is this just how I feel?

Why are there options with no end

when actually there's just one?

Why are you forced to select and say

you are destined to be undone?

Why do people doubt themselves?

Why do people hope?

Human nature surely fools,

and slides one down a slope.

Why do things like this exist

while they only serve to hurt,

to blame, to rot, to shun, to steal,

to writhe beneath the dirt?

Why does the world spin one way

and then claim it turns the other?

And why does this live in my head

when it's place is with another?


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741