Sometimes I don't belong
and then I start thinking
that maybe
maybe my soul wasn't made for this world
that maybe
maybe some pieces of me got lost
and never found their way back.
But when I look at the night sky
and count the stars
when I feel sand under my feet
and hear the waves crashing
when I read a book
and get so lost in its world that I don't want to find my way back
then I feel
like maybe
maybe one of those tiny little pieces of me
found home.
DU LIEST GERADE
Schwerelos
PoetryWenn der Schmerz wieder an die Tür klopft und Menschen ihre Masken verlieren, dann ist es Zeit, dass Gedanken fliegen lernen. Part II: questioning -auf der Shortlist der Wattys2018-
