Why?

I've decided to do something a little differently today. usually i write what first pops into my brain socket. but now, i think I'm going to post one of my poems. my poetry is a little- OK, very- bad, but whatever. here we go:
WHY?
Why are we so surprised when winter comes,
Though it happens every year?
Why is change, though it happens constantly,
The one thing we most fear?

Why don't we stop to tell people how much we love them?
Why do we just assume that they know?
And why do we hold on to thing the most tightly
When it's time to let them go?

Why do we waste precious minutes and seconds
Doing unimportant things?
Why do we push off what we really should do,
As if we know what tomorrow will bring?

Why do we judge others so quickly,
But are reluctant to judge our own minds and hearts?
Why do we try to be just like others,
Hiding everything that sets us apart?

Why do we walk around laughing and smiling
When we really want to cry and shout?
When we're bleeding inside, why do we never seek help,
And think death is the only way out?

Why are we sometimes blind to our own faults?
We're perfect, or so we claim.
We tell others to practice what they preach,
But do we do the same?

Why do we conjure up our own illusions
To make the world seem more secure and fair?
Why do we stand dumbfounded when illusions shatter,
Though we're the ones who put them there?

Why are we often jealous of what others have,
Though they might have less than us?
Why do we so often hide our feelings
From the ones whom we most trust?

Why do we judge others by what we see outside,
And never try to look within?
And when people judge us in that same way,
Why do we think of it as the worst sin?

Why is it that we feel it's horrible to murder,
Or hurt someone in any way,
But we've no problem with driving daggers into people's souls,
Killing them, slowly and slowly, each day?

Will we ever be able to answer these questions?
Will we not be able to change until we do?
And is changing even possible for us?
Do we even want to?