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I asked the wind if it knew why
the world won’t look me in the eye.
It brushed my hair with dusty hands,
and whispered things I don’t understand.
I asked the sky, “what did I do?”
It only thundered, cold and blue.
The clouds just watched the buildings bleed,
and rained on roots that have no seed.
I asked the stars, but they were gone,
their empty space just lingered on.
They used to blink when I would pray
now even light has turned away.
I asked the sea, “do you still care?”
but even waves won’t travel there.
They stop before the shattered shore,
afraid to see what was before.
I asked the world, “why can’t you see
I’m just a child, like yours could be?”
No one answered. Not a sound.
Just broken streets and trembling ground.
So I will ask again tonight,
before I fade beneath the light—
if hearts can break and still forgive,
please tell me why
I’m not allowed to live.
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