Astray

i am wafting

like a mikweed seed

in the stead

of the anarchic wind

Traipsing in dismay

mostly astray

yearning , I do long

To find where i belong

this humble life of mine

has no purpose

when everyone seek

Validations they are unique

why is this tweensy brain of mine

insist i am just the mime

quite ordinary

As anyone you might see

life propels forward

time races onward

i am still the boring me

no wit. No humour, no purpose, no glee

still life goes on

And me a con

tomorrow comes

so does the next!

false smiles

hidden wails

distracted self

Hating myself

-anwrites