Sometimes, when I’m miles away, it’s all I can do to not feel dejected. I’m longing for that mold I can fit perfectly in. That mold that I fill and my sides don’t droop over the edges, bursting out the seams. Looking for shoes to fill, or a shell to occupy, it’s just not happening. Trying to find the space in which I can exist and be recognized naked. Most of the time my thoughts are lost in the abyss between my mouth and your soul. My fragmented and fractured life, I am attempting to fit the pieces together, even though I can see the holes in the picture from here. Even when I recognize the soul in you, I recede. Living for so long on the wrong side of things have rendered my speech incoherent and my intentions disregarded. You’ve fractured me further, but for once I callused. Pieces of me that have been plucked away have helped me get a better glimpse. I thought I had lost my identity forever. I will not bow, or grovel, or shake. My unwillingness to be stepped on only motivates my skin to fit tighter, and everyone witnesses my discomfort. I’ve stumbled and fell through the holes in my life, somehow I ended up here, disoriented and lacking. I wanted to measure up, and be recognized in your line of sight. I wanted, but never wanted to try.
Fragmented
Sometimes, when I’m miles away, it’s all I can do to not feel dejected. I’m longing for that mold I can fit perfectly in. That mold that I fill and my sides don’t droop over the edges, bursting out the seams. Looking for shoes to fill, or a shell to occupy, it’s just not happening. Trying to find the space in which I can exist and be recognized naked. Most of the time my thoughts are lost in the abyss between my mouth and your soul. My fragmented and fractured life, I am attempting to fit the pieces together, even though I can see the holes in the picture from here. Even when I recognize the soul in you, I recede. Living for so long on the wrong side of things have rendered my speech incoherent and my intentions disregarded. You’ve fractured me further, but for once I callused. Pieces of me that have been plucked away have helped me get a better glimpse. I thought I had lost my identity forever. I will not bow, or grovel, or shake. My unwillingness to be stepped on only motivates my skin to fit tighter, and everyone witnesses my discomfort. I’ve stumbled and fell through the holes in my life, somehow I ended up here, disoriented and lacking. I wanted to measure up, and be recognized in your line of sight. I wanted, but never wanted to try.