sometimes it just feels wrong, being me,
what am i again ?
my own one million dollar question
after all these roads and broken ankles,
trying to fit in, then out, then
getting stuck.

ended up sitting on the curb,
for months, waiting
maybe time will chose for me,
cause my wishes will be ripped from my hands,
any way.

i sit, and my bones are crooked
from all the stress
and its agony,
i sit, and
i wonder
tomorrow, can i even just 𝘣𝘦 ?