The Lost Youth

Questions begging in front of me.
Blocking my vision so I can’t see.
Questions of life, questions of truth.
Questions of being a good youth.
Should I answer, should I care?
Is it worth the loss of hair?
Or should I leave my thoughts alone
And try to look back when I’m grown?

Questions attacking my small brain.
Questions hard for me to explain.
Questions, questions, questions, questions.
But no one giving me suggestions.

Should I go or should I stay?
Questions bugging me day by day.
Fighting fights I wouldn’t have fought.
Lost in thoughts I wouldn’t have thought.
I’m losing myself in everyway,
Like a needle in a stack of hay.
I’m sick of ‘where’, ‘why’, what’ and ‘how’.
Enough of all these questions now!

1st October 2003