Why...?

Why is it that we plan for the future, while life has its own future in store?

Why is it that we have our own schedules, when life has an agenda of its own?

Why is it that a human being can be so gullible and believe anything a person says?

Why is it that we don’t follow our heart from the beginning to the end?

Why do we become lured into situations we don’t desire?

Why is it that we have to endure pain and fire?

Why is it that we pursue relationships with the ones we don’t truly love—is it out of desperation or do we just wish not to love?

Why are we in shackles when we wish to be free? Why are we hindered from a life of eternity?

Why do I write when I wish to only speak—what is the very obstacle in life that is of hindrance to me?

When I can finally answer these questions

My life will probably be at its end.

I will wish to know no more

From a broken heart to a broken pen.