The Other One

I know you've been waiting for the answer. I just need to tell you it's never going to come.

It's traveling the thoughts of others, just like a sound from the drum.

I've may asked you this before, but why is there such things as questions.

When there never answers left anymore, there mostly frauds called suggestions.

So truly I can just crush love, till you see its bones.

Cause the question that are needed to that are really just alone,

Not asked or revealed, just there as it is, concealed.

Why is the truth sacrificed in lies, or is it? Maybe I'll just revise, it.

Trapped Questions in the darkness doom.

Cause there's not room, to peek, flourish and bloom.

Lies, thought to be the truth. In reality, it’s demolishing my youth.

Is Life itself a lie?

Forget it, no one would reply.

Life after Death?

I’ll find out when I take my last breath.

Why am I the one asking this? Why can't I resist?

Why do thoughts like these come to my mind?

It's Like I am blind, lost in wonders of the thing I supposed to find,

But no, nothing is true, nothing is real, and my questions are still infinite.

They will be never heard, only endured, by my imprisonment.