Questions Without Answers

And at an age where you laugh as soon as cry. I would ask

the people close to the sky. Voices that should know and so understand.

While I stumbled like sailors new to land. A record on

repeat, I asked them why. Silence faded away, but no reply.

When crying was taught as a young boy's shame. And walking was played like a

running game. Parents' booming speech was a kettle drum. While mine a

whisper, as if it were none. I waited quietly and then asked

them why. Glances shot towards me, but no reply. When rules evoked