Why Me?

Why Me? as a thought

caught on a rut,
cutting deep
into my cult,
as no cookies cooked
no dishes served,
it’s just me and my plate.
As my soul
muttered and cluttered,
as an outright right,
neither a paradox
nor a possibility ,
but, a reality in totality,
it’s another day at bay with no hay.
As my pain soaring high
on altitudes,
and in all latitudes,
it’s all my fortitudes
as a Knight,
saving me all along,
as I sail all alone,
all through the rat race.
As an inside out,
and an outside in,
in my own identity search,
I am neither a Einstein
nor a Edison,
I am neither a Shakespeare
nor a Socrates,
though, that’s the eleventh hour search indeed.
But for now and finally,
as I figured it out,
though not the answer,
though I will never settle until I find one,
the Why Me?
is the million dollar question
on everyone else’s plate!