Do you know what it is like?
To walk the road unwanted,
To take the path that's haunted
By ancient ghosts of better times.

Do you spend the nights in terror?
Bear days of existential dread.
Have you ever stopped, questioned
The voice(s)
That echo within your head.

Have you travelled among the masses
To feel more in common with the dead.
Have you given each ounce of your being
To receive indifference in its stead.

But have you not persevered?
Are you not still standing here?
Have you not overcome the maelstrom
And the ever present fear.
To find that even those
Harshest storms do clear.

Perhaps it is the slaughter,
The trauma of our years
That casts aside the warnings
And makes us who we are.

Travellers without a map,
Bedouins of shooting stars.