You ever felt this way before? Had you ever so many questions to ask?
Questions about life. Questions about faith?
Questions about God. Questions about death?
There is confusion.
There is destruction.
Rotten with fear. Burning in anguish.
What is a question without a definition?
Till death do apart–is it a question or mere interpretation!
They die, so some go to heaven and others to hell.
Is it a fact or is it a question.
What is that force called, which changes the season?
If i say God, is it an answer or a question for a question?
Where does the tree come from.
Are we humans? But that is a joke.
Why? What? How? Why?