Daily poem

I’ve yet to question why I stay in my little world and hold little worries about the outside.

I’ve yet to question why I’m so afraid to look beyond what I know and feel the sigh of relief to know I’m alone and its okay.

I’ve yet to fully qualify to question anything I do, when I haven’t even done anything.

Yet I’ve questioned that.

I have question, rather urgently, rather timidly, rather slowly, rather franticly the mysteries behind who I am.

I have questions my decision today.

I have questioned my ability to make mistakes.

Yet I haven’t question not once if who I am is wrong.

Because why would bare false witness to my own exsistence?

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