I place no title upon this, For it is simply just some questions that I have, Is there love blossoming somewhere for you or is there not? Is there a reason I met you or is my whole life just rot?
I'm asking all these questions, But answers are not what I got, These feelings are like an infection, But knowing me, that's just my lot.
The next question I ask is eternal, Why are any of us here at all? I know the question's infernal, But don't civilizations fall?
I ask next about the distance, Why the space between us so great? Why is life like resistance? Like we're rebelling against fate.
I asked for truth, you gave it, I gave when you asked in return, I hope you read what I have writ, And your mind fills with things you learned,
Because I'll tell you things about me, Through my writing and in my words, There are things that you will see, That no one person has heard.
If there is something you wish to know about me, I'm like an open door, You're free to come and learn and see, I'm an open book Mo stór.