She stands in the center of the universe
As questions bounce off boulders
And embed themselves in her body.
Bullets leave holes
Which allow the bloodied questions to exit the cavity.
The answers she searches for are like the boundaries of space-
Irrelevant. Irrational. Impossible to create.
“What if’s” and “why nots” are tossed from her brain
Like a grenade they contain the ammunition to turn ambition
To the fiery formula that detonated her existence.
She is a war.
Her mind the enemy.
Panic supplies the bomb,
But anxiety pulls the pin.
Reality creates the pile of grenades that will not burst.
She wants. She waits. She wonders.
The misery of the mystery will end the war,
When the pile of grenades buries her whole.