I Had High Hopes But

Find yourself,
They say.
But you can’t. But
Yet they say
Find yourself.

And so you try. In
The darkness amidst flashing lights.
In the time you find between two paragraphs of an assignment
You dread
In the gaps between
Awkward conversation
In the spaces between your teeth where tongues cannot fit
Where decency tries to find a way but stops short
Of anything substantial. Of anything yet

You find yourself
You know you didn’t want this.
You know
You didn’t want any of this.
But yet you’re yearning
And your morals crunch against the gravel
The imaginary asphalt
The friendly stones
That are actually stares.
But they don’t seem so friendly to you.

And you yearn but you don’t ever get and
You fight but you don’t ever win
You behave but no one commends you.
And what does this tell you?

But that you are nothing more than
A little too insignificant for the world
To even notice,
To even take your feelings into account
When there’s nothing left inside
To express

And so you yearn but as it appears
Yearning is too insubstantial anyway
To feed the pain
That is your soul.


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