PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A question could mean anything

They could bring outstanding joy

Or the most painful sting

Not to be treated like a toy

With a question comes my nerves

Thinking of the worst

But my hope's time serves

I guess I could be cursed

I always think I'm heading downhill

Even when it's upward that I'm going

I sit all day on the window sill

Eye lashes I keep blowing

I wish that this is a simple one

But I know it's probably not

After everything is said and done

It's just a little spot

The question never means much

But sometimes they are quite tart

And seem to reach out and touch

A little organ called my heart