Questions
They’re unwanted pests too stubborn to move,
They’re lingering thoughts with something to prove,
They’re loose ends that can’t be tied,
They’re tricksters, designed to misguide,
You cannot give a direct answer,
The question dips and turns like a ballet dancer,
But you must dance to every word,
Or your answer will remain fuzzy and blurred.
The song of a question is a complicated one,
But when you learn to sway to it,
Before you know it, you’ll be done.
I wrote this poem at 10:00 in the night. I didn't even know what I was writing about until I finished it. Initially, I was writing about 'answers'. But then, when I wrote the line, "They're loose ends that can't be tied." I switched my topic to the exact opposite: questions!
