Writing from an unmade bed
weary of the same four walls
wrapped in the same old pictures.
Why am I here?
Wandering up life’s mountain
weathered and crackling under
weak social preconceptions
What am I?
Worn out from institutions
wailing and waffling on;
wars on individuality.
Who am I?
Weakened from society’s chains
who would keep me on the beaten path
waiting for the answer
what will I be when I grow up?
We’re all in the same boat, they say.
Wrong, we’re split into factions
west and east; north and south
white and black – someone ask why?
Why are we here? What’s the point?
What is our objective?
We’re born into this giant globe
We should be the one’s to protect it…
Prompt: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/poetry/ – Tautogram
Charlie Ann Alford 
You know Charlie there is nothing more invigorating than an existential crisis to question the very existence of ourselves and everything around you. I might add that the answer to the question what will I do when I grow up is one you are challenged by throughout life for the simple reason we are not always going to be content in what we do and who we are, so the temptation to reinvent ourselves is on going. Life really is a lot to do with Waiting for Godot! Excellent poem by the way, great you are able to pose such searching questions.
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