echoes | poetry | wattys2018

70

i used to
have this
smile painted
on my lips,
i used to fly
into the sky,
talk to the
moon,
asking for
permission
to collect
shards,
beside him.

then,
i realized,
i am no
peter pan,
nor do i live
in neverland,
but i'm just
a lost boy,
dreaming of
becoming
someone,
without
collecting
other's
piece of
shining
glass,
that would
fit in my
chest;
who i
really
was.

—i am lost.
save me.