I looked under the desk
Beneath the bed
Ransacked the refrigerator
But came up empty.
I lost myself again
And finding me is always
The hardest process.
Maybe I should wear
A bell around my neck,
A fashion forward
“FIND ME” noose,
In preparation for the next time
I decide to disappear,
So that way my soul
Can’t scamper too far off
From my self.
Last time I was lost,
I was taped to the backside,
Of an upside-down penny,
Long forgotten on the sidewalk,
Rusting in the rain,
So copperized,
I was changed.
But now I’m a wearied traveler,
Craving comfort over building character,
And much rather just staple up signs:
“LOST: Five foot three female.
Brown hair and black holes for irises
That **** up all life in hopes
Of soaking in the aliveness.
HUGE $REWARD$ PROMISED!!”
But life isn’t so simple;
Inner peace is a cultivated growth
That sets it’s own pace.
…
So maybe I’ll feel like myself tonight
Or maybe I won’t feel whole for a year
But either way whatever
Smiles and scars my soul stockpiles
Becomes an extension of my existence,
An incorporation of my earthly-bound story.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
I looked under the desk
Beneath the bed
Ransacked the refrigerator
But came up empty.
I lost myself again
And finding me is always
The hardest process.
Maybe I should wear
A bell around my neck,
A fashion forward
“FIND ME” noose,
In preparation for the next time
I decide to disappear,
So that way my soul
Can’t scamper too far off
From my self.
Last time I was lost,
I was taped to the backside,
Of an upside-down penny,
Long forgotten on the sidewalk,
Rusting in the rain,
So copperized,
I was changed.
But now I’m a wearied traveler,
Craving comfort over building character,
And much rather just staple up signs:
“LOST: Five foot three female.
Brown hair and black holes for irises
That **** up all life in hopes
Of soaking in the aliveness.
HUGE $REWARD$ PROMISED!!”
But life isn’t so simple;
Inner peace is a cultivated growth
That sets it’s own pace.
…
So maybe I’ll feel like myself tonight
Or maybe I won’t feel whole for a year
But either way whatever
Smiles and scars my soul stockpiles
Becomes an extension of my existence,
An incorporation of my earthly-bound story.