Dear ceiling

Look at me.

    Cry with me.

Will you?

It would do me good to have a crying buddy I think.

Ceiling.

I know you judge me.

Like everyone else-

     Why do I cry, you may ask

Why? 

        Why? 

                That is the question isn’t it?

 Why?

Why do colors expand from a single ray of light?

Why does the sky bleed that shade of blue?

Why does DNA curve as if it waits to be climbed up to heights unseen.

 Who climbs those rungs?

And I know, ceiling, I know, 

Those answers.

                            They await me

In textbooks, among blocks of 

              Text.

      Text. Text. Text.

Endless tales of human ingenuity.

We’ve seen the edges of our planet and yet

And yet, ceiling, 

I still don’t know.

Why do I cry?

           I know, ceiling, I know.

It’s these things called ‘tear ducts’

In my face. 

They expel water, I know.

Yet, who told them to to expel liquid

When all I was thinking of was that one movie.

That one movie where the dog dies.

Ah! There I go again!

You are laughing at me, aren’t you?

You’re no better than the others, you know?

But then again, what did I expect?

From just a layer of cement.

Thanks for nothing, 

I guess.