And perhaps I am bitter,
Because the knowledge of my insignificance lies heavy and acrid on my tongue.
I cannot swallow
Without tasting the sour rind
of defeat and hopelessness.
There is no place for me,
Not here, not anywhere.
And perhaps that's how it's meant to be.
Perhaps I will wander, forever and lonely,
Searching for a space that is mine.
(It is bittersweet when I find that I can fit in any space I want to;
Because I am tiny, and small, and cannot fill the footsteps left vacant in front of me.
I fit everywhere, for I am not important enough to take up any real space.)
The next breath rattles through my body.
Acceptance is a strange thing;
I am oddly relieved when it settles within me,
Stable in the knowledge that I am not stealing anyone's air.
I am insignificant, but I am not guilty.
The world keeps turning.
YOU ARE READING
will you come back?
PoetryThe world lingers. The city sighs and I cannot help but feel small looking out at a sky whose hugeness I could never fathom. I am here, but why? And where is there? I take a deep breath, and the world lingers. - a book of my thoughts, and my hope...
