I am a used match.
I've been struck
and blown out
I've been used
and discarded
Someone tossed me away
without checking if
I had anything more
to give.
So here I am,
alone
hoping someone
will be desperate enough
to give me
another chance

Isn't it wonderful:
the way you become
so enveloped
in a world
that isn't your own?
the way
people romanticize you
sitting on a park bench
trying to escape
from the life
you call yours?
the way your emotions
run wild
reading about adventures
you'll never have?
when you've become
so numb
to the world around you
because you've read
too much fiction
to know the difference
between reality and fantasy?

How the hell am I supposed to know
who I am?
We sit in rows.
I feel my creativity,
running away from the ideas I'm
supposed to have.
Why are people so persistent
about telling me what I'm supposed
to say;
and what I'm not.
The more I 'learn'
the less I know
about who I really am

It's strange to see
How lost you feel
Seeing someone
You loved,
Love someone else

Periodically
You find yourself
Standing alone in the shower
With nothing on your mind,
but water cascading  
down the curve of your spine