The Question

I feel like an inquisitive 3 yr old
Asking questions not easily answered
Unless you just happen to know
Or recall
From too log ago science classes
why is the sky blue
Why do birds have wings
But in this case
There is extra,
Anvil-heavy emphasis...

On the WHY
My tongue
is weighed down by it
It feels loaded
Burdened,

just like my heart
Which is acting
As the go-between
The middle man
On behalf of this woman
And it is Whoa
Like- Stop the presses
Then- woe like
Woe is me
The standard feeling
For both of us
Every time the question
Is asked
And left unanswered
And every time it is...
Answered
Every time it is answered
but It sounds like...nothing
words spill from lips
Not quite venom
Not quite antidote
But the question is too big
It makes itself bigger
Implodes in the atmosphere
Dwarfing nearly any answer
That could possibly come forth
It is black hole
Or my ears have surely shrunken
Unable to hear
Any sound
Any rhyme or reason
Within reason
Or earshot
Every word suddenly unreasonable
Making this simple equation
Unsolvable
Wrong
Leaving the why
Stuck on lips
Swirling and spinning
In the pools of
my watery eyes
as they ask yet again-
And again, once more
Why?