The Restless
by Malory Columbretis
My broken being seeks a balm
Most people call a home —
Needed by all, owned by a few,
Impossible to me.
For could one ever bathe in moonglow
Afloat a sea of stolen stars?
Or race the sun from coast to coast
Asleep upon a cloying cloud?
Everything that ever housed me
Are now strangers at best.
At worst, they now reject me,
Embittered with memories.
And so I must for now make do
With living as a ghost,
Gliding through a dreary world,
Restless, empty, barely seen,
Eternally exhausted.
Waves Without Sounds 