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Nineteen Years
January 28, 2016
Nineteen years and still no purpose. Still an outer shell with a vacant center. Still heartbreak with heatstroke. Whispers and doubt. All these years and still no purpose. I beg of you to find it in me, while deep down I know it is something I can only do myself. All this time and still the very language I speak is troubling. I do not understand all of the words. I don’t know how to use them. I string them together, with mud and glue, for absent minded entries like this one. And I wait.
© Xiao H., Naperville, IL
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