Exclamation Point, Question Mark

They sit proud and tall at their table

oblivious to the others around them.

They know their place.

They do not bend themselves around things

that have no answers.

It is their job to speak with power.

 

The Exclamation Points always knew how to end a sentence.

Life was a fact.

The world was a speech to be made.

But despite their supposed confidence,

Their ecstatic enthusiasm,

they never did know how to interact with uncertainty.

This is how it is! Accept it.

Stop asking so many questions.

 

But across the hall,

at another table

sits a different kind of Exclamation Point.

He is older than the others,

a little wiser,

shoulders hunched from age.

He has learned that

life is not a textbook of rules

or a shouting match

and you cannot thrive if

you are unwilling to ask questions.

Why do we hate?

How can we love?

What do we fear?

He had learned when it was time to bend

himself into a Question

and when it was time to stand tall

with conviction.

 

I

am a tired exclamation point

who is learning how far I can bend

before I snap.

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