Why?

Sometimes, sitting alone, I ask myself. Why all the sadness? Why all the hate? Why the frustration and fear? My questions go unanswered as if i were a child, being told not to speak unless spoken to. When I sleep at night, even more than an aversion toward something. Shadows on the wall, laughing and mocking as i lay. Wishing htings were different. Hopeing that a solution will come from the dark. none. Where does the time go, when you think about things in your life? about the time you went away for awhile, or just simply faded into a mere memory? About the things you said as you wished you could take them back. Life isn't as simple as its portrayed in the fairy-tales for children. Those dragons and witches are real, even if they don't look exactly like their storybook counterparts. Yes, i may rant and rave, but don't we all? If we didn't, then who might i ask, would Feeling the raindrops and knowing a certain oncern about your clothes getting wet, but you don't care. Noone does. Not even if you catch a cold. you just watch the sky darken and the clouds puff up like some angry god seeking vengeance on the unmarked sinners of this burning world. yes i speak, but i am not heard. Sitting in the corner like the child with his coloring book not speaking or moving except to the miners timing of Crayon and paper. Yes i listen, but i don't apply said teachings into my life. I dwell on the past, only facing retribution when its staring in my face, and even then i defy it. Ha, you say, you are naught but a weaver of fancy words, but do your words come out in a spit-fire of thread, that binds its audience into absolute captivation? I dare think not. you are just the imbodiment of something less and weaker than you percieve. My time has come, for me to end this charade. To get back to my bland and meek life. shelling out packets of things for others concessions or amusement so now i go, leaving you with one last question. Why.........?