I’m found on the edge of the night
Lying on the ground, on cold concrete
Like a fish out of water
Waiting for someone to put me where I belong
Or suffocate among the rapturous vultures
Gathered round in glee ~
Ostensibly, I was born here
Yet everything seems foreign
The people, the cars they drive
The things they do everyday
I’m overzealous in my thoughts
Of who I am
Where I am
Why am I here?
What am I supposed to do?
Nothing feels real anymore
If in fact, it ever did
Like E.T. left behind
Wanting to go home
I see nothing familiar when
Through these streets, I roam ~
Everyone seems to take it in their stride
It’s all so natural for them
It is not so normal for me
I go on pretending I am living, not dying inside
No one sees the real me ~ lost and alone
No one gets inside this soul, you see?
Then I get to thinking
Are everyday people pretending? Just like me
Is everyone as in control as they appear?
Or are they faking it too?
The only thing true of the big lie
Faking it or not in this life
No one will get out ~ *alive
This is something I wrote a while back, and never really gave it a title... if you have any better title suggestions... I'd love to hear them.