screaming to an empty crowd,
glass eyes and swollen limbs.
hands are grasping on railings
of a train leading to nowhere,
when all I wanted was a ticket
to somewhere.

nature seems to be the only beauty
in this life of pain and struggle;
but trees are trees,
and lakes and oceans are nothing but water,
and the weather will cry sometimes.

but even still,
none of that is enough to make me feel at home,
to make me feel okay alone.

NJ2016