self-identifying object
at a loss for words
I take my mind far away
listening to ocean waves I once visited
when I was a child
as a child I often told myself
I’d been here before
but the people surrounding me
seemed so strange
as if they somehow didn’t fit
I never did quite fit
into this world I was born
like a castaway or black sheep
I often found myself drifting
into no man’s land
telepathically following
the third brightest object in the sky
only I could see
june two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
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