What good?

What good are these eyes, that look but don't see,
The world that is fighting and struggling to be?
What good are these ears that fall deaf at the cries.
Of children that hold too much grief in their eyes?

What good are these hands, that touch but don't feel,
The anguish beneath all the smiles that aren't real?
What good is this voice that never will ask,
The questions that will finally break open the mask?

What good is this heart that never can mend,
That expects new found heartache around every bend?
What good is this mind that thinks of the worst,
That's waiting, expecting their bubble to burst?

What good are these words, that cannot stop wars?
What good is this writer who hides behind doors?
What good is to give in and never to try?
What good lies within us just waiting to fly?