Why? Why? Why?

Why do we wake up each day,
and repeat what we swore we’d change?
Why do we chase after people
who stopped looking back long ago?
Why does silence feel heavier
than a room full of noise?
Why do we measure love
in how much it hurts when it ends?
Why do we pretend to understand
when we’re just afraid to ask?
Why do we keep memories
that only make our chest tighten?
Why does time move faster
when we start to feel alive?
Why do we still hope
even when we know better?

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