These R The Thoughts

These are the thoughts That go through my head In my backyard On a Sunday afternoon When I have the house To myself and I am not Expending all that energy on fighting With my boyfriend Is he the one That I will marry Then why's it so hard To be objective about myself Why do I feel so cellulary alone Am I supposed to live in this crazy city Can blindly continued fear Induced regurgitated Life denying tradition Be overcome Where does the money go that I send To those in need if we have so much why do Some people have nothing still why do I feel frantic when I first Wake up in the morning Why do you say you are spiritual Yet you treat people like shit How can you say you're close to god And yet you talk behind my back as though I'm not a part of you Why do I say I'm fine when it's obvious I'm not Why's it so hard to tell you what I want Why can't you just read my mind Why do I fear the quieter I am The less you will listen Why do I care whether you like me or not Why's it so hard for me to be angry Why's it such work to stay concious and so Easy to get stuck and not the other way around Will I ever move back to Canada again I'd be with a lover with whom I am a student and a master Why am I encouraged to shut my mouth When it gets too close too home why can't I live In the moment