Why were we born into a world so cruel,
where most of the time all people do is duel?
Why do so many hate,
and then refuse to relate?
Why are we different colors,
and the only important thing is dollars?
Why is love so hard to find,
then at times so unkind?

Why is life so conflicting,
and some things so addicting?
Why can't we be happy all the time?
Why is there so much crime?
Why is there so much slime?

Why does a poet try to rhyme,
and express life in time?
Why would I write a why,
that makes me almost want to cry?
Why do I cry,
then wonder why?

Why am I me,
a vision in the mirror to see?
Then when I face you,
you can't see me through?
Why are we such complicated masses,
and some of us such asses.

The answers my friends,
are blowing in winds.
The winds of mind,
and process of thought,
where answers are sought,
or can even be bought.

Why?