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A feather, a leaf

Floating, Blowing

Along a gentle breeze.

Once a part of something?


A long time has passed in the drifting wind.

There's no memory of belonging.

Driftwood churning on endless waves,

Tumultuous seas.

Are there others like me?

This wayward dance

Results in a type of loneliness.

So tired

Of trying to be like everyone else.

More than tired.

An exhausted soul.

Bone weary.

But maybe

Everyone's doing the same thing.

Maybe everyone is trying to be

Like everyone else.

And none of us are remotely alike

At all.

And I'm still not even sure what I am.

I'm so good

And so sweet

And so loving

And so bad

And so sad

And so full of turmoil.

A walking contradiction

In every way,

That there's no way

To know what I belong to.

I crave more


I feel so fully that the pleasure hurts

And the pain is pleasure.

I want it all.


I hunger for more.

Who am I?

And where are all the others?

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