#30

Am I a tornado?

Am I a spinning top?

Am I a blank piece of paper, ready to be ripped up?

Am I asking these questions?

Am I looking for answers?

Or am I a mess of what once was, am I a mess of who I was?

I’m not sure of the truth

I’m even more scared of the lie

How many tables can be turned before I start to cry?

Are you hearing my prayers?

Are you seeing me with your eyes?

Or am I just a smudge on your paper, a messed-up call-back-later?

Am I a curse?

Or am I a friend?

Am I searching for an answer, or just a game of pretend?

Do I really have hope?

Or is this expectation?

Are we really gonna move, or am I more stuck than a broken fire station?

I wanna tell you the truth

More than anything

But it’s harder to say when there’s hardly a way

For me to understand it

For me to hold it in my hand it

is too hard

It is too far

And I’m searching for an answer I may never find.