Question

Copyright © 1998 Property of Deborah K. Fletcher. All rights reserved.

September 21, 1988

I have a question.
It is an important question.
It is bothering me.
It has bothered me for a long time now.
I don't like this question.
I don't like not knowing,
Or not understanding.
It is almost as bad as not believing,
Or not caring.
I want to know the answer to this question.
I need to understand it.
I need that the way I need to believe,
And the way I need to care about the world.
The problem is,
I don't know whether I can believe anymore.
There is very little left to believe in.
I don't know whether I can care anymore, either.
Mankind has so nearly destroyed this world.
I hope the answer to my question
Is not as cynical as the rest of my world.
I need an answer to my question.
I need it soon, if I am to continue.
My question is:
Why am I alive?

Comments, constructive criticism, etc, about this poem are greatly appreciated.

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