Unvoluntarily Tenacious

Sometimes I wonder,
Why do we bother breathing?

Why do we bother?
When every intake is lined with pain?
Hurt.
Hurt from the strain that it is putting our lungs to use...

Why?

Why do we do this?
Put ourselves through this?
This life.
This life, we live.

We live.
We live, hard.
Powerful.
Painful.
With scars as tales.
Sanskrit on skin.

Why do we stand?
Why do we continue to walk?
We get up.
When fallen down..


And somehow,

The moon never asks the sun why must he return again only to replaced tomorrow...

Yet somehow, 

Somehow it all makes sense.
 For every breath we take,
We give back.

 For every pain there is relief.
For downs there must be ups.

And maybe there's something,
Something there in why strive to live .
For life.
To breath.

Yet somehow, its somehow, worth it..
From the first to last breath.
So, Why bother in asking why?

Comments

Delaware2020

This poem is lovely. It has a lot of depth and knowledge of life within it. Serious Props.

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