One after the other
I am abandoned;
Reminiscing the same movements
My father exhibited when
He wanted to start anew.

The human body is made up
Of skin and bones,
Blood gushing through veins
Repeatedly, a job done nearly sixty times a minute.
And yet we are more than just that.

I am a shell of my former self,
My passion has dwindled,
And so has my own will to live.
I am not the same person who fell in love with this life,
Innocently calling it mine.

My personality flees by the danger I convince myself that I am in.
Hopping on trains and planes,
Cars and even bikes.
They flee and do not intend to return.

I am hollow,
A former shell of who I used to be.
And while emotions are difficult to come by,
I only hope they come back to their motherland,
Knowing that it is safe once again.