Luxury I Can’t Afford

The sense of being

is a luxury everyone but I

seemed to have abundantly.


It’s a golden nugget,

mined from within ourselves

in exchange of weary faces

and tired bodies.


At least you’re happy.

And whole.


But what about those

like me, who couldn’t dig

through their layers

nor seek out the stars above

to find themselves?


What do we have left for ourselves?

A sense of longing, perhaps?


If only I could trade it for a

tailor-fit purpose.


Then I wouldn’t have

to walk around mindlessly


trying to fit in

and trying find out

what’s inside of me

that I can offer to the world.


Only then I can live.





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