It doesn't go away with time,
the intimate feeling of
not belonging.

Yesterday I was a wet rug of a child,
thought even the wind would
shame me for breathing.

Today, like an ant, aimlessly walking
in search of any tiny pebble
to call home.

Tomorrow I'll be a giant full of gold,
hoarding it, boasting it,
desperate for a good time.

Screaming into the nights,
Screaming into the mouths of
others half as lost,
Screaming through the blood
of feet who can't stop running,
never.

Can any city hold my treasure ?