With a childlike demeanor she asks the question why.
Every time, of everything.
She asks again, and then rephrases.
She will do so until she understands in only the way she can,
she will not stop asking why.
She cannot stop asking.
The thing inside will drive her mad if she does not ask.
It's a thirst, a desire, an obsession.
To know everything. To constantly seek for truth.
To weed the make believe out of the story.
The need to know will overtake.
The excruciating need to understand.
Brain on fire, trying to make sense of it.
Of all of it, of what she is, and where she is, and why she is.
The only way she believes she'll ever know,
is to keep digging around her,
to keep prodding,
and to keep the why alive.