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STLR Nov 2016
The wanderer walks more then he talks fished in a *** of emotions asteroid

torn by the fact that time is a plant
of which can't be regrown when grown on a slant
oh surface what is my purpose?
why am I here? what am I after?
what is my fear?

Stuck in a haze
of being afraid of the future

I'm the wanderer of night

The walker of the shadows

my feet glide lightly beneath the
street & it's gravel

I'm peeping at the living
within the holes of their hollows

Wondering if there lives are a cycle

Go to sleep, Go to work,
Go where ever the light glows

Follow the crowd, be a part of the now

Your past actions will only be known as a noun, I've figured it out, I've opened the spout

The opportunities are endless there just flowing about

the waters of remembrance are very shallow, and impact must be heavy to make a splash

Do what you love, and your passions will truly last

Don't be stuck in the past, instead,  thrive on what's here today

This message is retrospective
echoed in constant delay

As I walk deeper into the dark this is what I truly say....L...O...S...T

it's hard to stay on track when you've mentally lost perspective
When everything you've known turns unfamiliar within seconds

Is this good energy?

or the spread of an infection?

I need a tower of fortune cookies

to hold my lessons

For when that tower crashes

it will crumble into a message

Do I search for more? or do I stay inside the common section?

I'm searching for the uncommon and people of rarity

Who can explain the emotions

of human irregularity?

Will I sustain my vision of singularity

art crafted in loops

repetition brings recognition to patterns covered from clarity

This is just a turn of the leaf

roots of the past years die off

they become obsolete, as we drift deeper into forms of technology, we suddenly find people in the form of anomalies

Look outside your window and standing there I will be, a stranger in the night

Peeping through windows for company

Only searching for answers that all of us seem to seek

Who will I be today and the following week

Who will I meet today that will change who I want to be

These are thoughts of the wanderer waking amount the streets
Crimsyy Oct 2016
In the middle of nowhere
is where I'd like to be,
clouds for a roof,
enveloped by trees,
driving into infinity
far, far away
from everyone and everything,
fleeing the persecution
of my mind,
here at least I know
my only purpose
is to breathe
and I shall write thoughtless verses
take me somewhere thoughts
cease to be.
Tiauna Oct 2016
It's crazy
How I'd follow you across the world
And wouldn't even think twice...
Diána Bósa Oct 2016
This heart of mine is
a wanderer nomad and
now it is on the

loose. It became wroth
and restless for the mind is
bowed down; the shameful

armistice is now
signed. Because it is still
aware that if it

gave upon on you,
if it ceased to love, it would
cease to beat eternally.
God, I
Can be watching over me,
But I want to watch you,
You hide behind the clouds,
I can't see you,
I can't find you,
Perplexed, I wander off so far,
That I can't see my own self,
That I can't find my own self,
Can you be watching over me.
I feel so bitter



I still haven't found my home.
maudy Sep 2016
which is nicer,
love.
to be sober with them long bumpless road
for decades worth a thousand solar eclipses.
or ,
to be drunk with your thirsty blood
for seconds worth a thousand teardrops.

9/16/16
Alyaan Tariq Jun 2016
In the dark of what I feel
Would anyone care enough
To decipher it all for me
Troubled by this confusion and
These unanswered questions
That always haunted me
Everything around me is perfect
While I am the only one drowning

In the wake of my sanity
Looking for answers, I wander
Pushing myself in the deep cold of night
There is something buried inside
That keeps my hope alive
Stuck in the middle this hide and seek
Where these unknown emotions
Seem to be hidden forever

In the light of what is hidden
As I watch the smiles around me
I watch myself getting insaner
Sometimes I envy their grins
But then that makes me wonder
What if they too wear a mask
And behind those fake smiles is
Everything they cannot bear

Perhaps in this life, a mess
Being a pretender is the best.
Joy May 2016
her body rusting -
yes, they call me vagabond -
prisoned to wander.
May, 2016
Nomad ,
a wanderer ,
never remaining static .

One at home
with their environment .

At peace with their creator .
Probably made
from shooting stars .
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