Why?

Why is sadness so beautiful?
Why is beauty always clouded with strife?
Why is strife always a strive for perfection?
Why is perfection such a grand flaw?
Why do our flaws tend to define us?
Why do our definitions guide us?
Why do our guides lead here and there?
Why do we go there only to be sent back?
Why do we go back when we knew things would get better?
Why do things get better, and not stay better?
Why would things stay better, if we always strive for grandness?
Why want grandness when the happiest among us are the least in materials?
Why are the material-less so happy than the other?
Why are the ones defined by materials so sad?
Why do the sad always do good?
Why does the good come so rare in life?
Why do we live, when in the end all we do is live forever?
Why do we live forever, if we wait only for a thousand year peace?
Why do we wish peace, when our cousins don't?
Why do we not acknowledge our cousins as so, when it is so?
Why is it that bird chained to the skyway like a slave chained to a cage?
Why is the cage not as safe as the war?
Why is war frowned upon as the curse of happiness?
Why is the happiness of man most important of our troubles?
Why is man always plagued with hardship?
Why is it that the best among us are hurt the worst?
Why is the world the worst among the three worlds?
Why is the first world not the only world, one with happiness?
Why is happiness never bestowed upon from first light?
Why is the light as always gray?
Why is the gray always flushed with white?
Why is white the defense of sadness?
Why is sadness so beautiful?