Not really an orphan
But I'm the forgotten child
of a family that doesn't exist.
Wandering through life and trying to find
a family of my own
to click into.
Always finding pre-made groups
and cliques that I just can't seem
to mold right with...
...I'm a polygon
taking shelter with circles.
A square in the space of a sphere.
Seeking comfort or virtue in this amalgam
of similarities.
I look out from the leaky roof
to the storm I'm running into.
Either shirk completely my comfort
for warmth,
or keep my blanket
and stay in the rain.
Can't decide,
but feelings say it's decided for me.
I'm pissed off and boring
and thinking of scoring,
and taking five steps back
from my progress.
I could be married by now
in a house with two kids.
Could be writing while supported
by my husbands budget.
Wrapped safe in the arms
of humble obscurity,
held gently by a man
who smells of insecurity,
instead of diving into something unforeseen
and sinking quick.
Try to save this Titanic
with a fly wing and a toothpick.
But I'm paddling in puddles,
and nothing makes a difference,
the band is still playing
and I'm regretting
all that I've said.
A lone wolf destined to never
find a home,
has found an owner to gently pet it,
try to tame it's wayward soul,
but the call of the coyotes,
cries out to the lupine,
and I'm shivering and wondering,
do I give up civility?
Do I drop my wolf instincts
to settle down with this man?
Do I grab onto nature,
and do the best I can,
in a pack that's so different
when I'm the last of my kind?
Can I come out of denial,
or will I lose my mind?