The Question

This Question makes my judgments sway,

Something I ask myself almost every day.

It revolves around in my head constantly,

Making me walk this hell very unsurely.

Is this who I am, why am I so confused?

Why is this Question in my head, infused?

It comes alive on my lips, coming out in a hiss,

I think I will get my answer with death’s kiss.

No matter when the answer comes to me,

I know that I will have no choice, but to flee.

This is what scares me the most, I am not free,

I have lost, this Question will always haunt me.

It will keep me awake at night like a nightmare,

This excruciating pain is more than I can bear.

Life takes turns unexpected, gives us pain too,

This is nothing like the path I drew and knew.

But whatever it is, it’s my dare to complete,

And I have to finish it, I will not fail or cheat.

So I ask you, no matter how difficult it seems,

I am lost, Is this what being a person means?

This Question keeps festering inside of me,

Or Am I just a monster waiting to be set free?

I am sure everyone has asked this Question,

I think the answer is hidden in a confession.