People often leave me broken,
It's not a surprise.
I often walk alone and empty-handed,
It has always been a given.
I walk, I look, I settle,
for temporary bodies,
for impermanent pleasure,
for fleeting lust.
People judge me,
It's not a surprise.
For all the ways I killed my sadness,
My identity has been compromised.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 8:05 AM UTC
People often leave me broken,
It's not a surprise.
I often walk alone and empty-handed,
It has always been a given.
I walk, I look, I settle,
for temporary bodies,
for impermanent pleasure,
for fleeting lust.
People judge me,
It's not a surprise.
For all the ways I killed my sadness,
My identity has been compromised.
