How must one ask when the questions unclear?
Every syllable a realization of what we feared.
Lost only to the pride that make our beds.
Pretending the needs only in our heads.
How must one give when they’ve yet to receive?
Engulfed in a constant state of need.
Longing for even an ounce of change.
Praying for miracles no longer seems so strange.
How must one know when an answers been given?
Especially when the questions been hidden.
Looking closer one may disagree.
Perhaps they’re there, we just cannot see.
Venice Renee-Lynn Hughes