this place is not my own
I am like a boy
without a family
a young man
without a soul
a wanderer w/o direction
god does not talk to me
like once upon a time
when guiding me out of my shell
and into a brand new light
I was told
things would take care
of themselves
that I was simply the vehicle
to someone else’s
grander design
how I am to know
what is true & what is make-believe
how I am to know
whether or not I have reached
my final destination
I am like an army of one
advancing toward a front line
continually redrawing itself
june two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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