Bright lights, blurry vision

this is my day in, day out.

Forgetting names and glasses as I pump adrenaline into my coffee cup.

The stripes on your shirt remind me of the lines in my arms,

running red and blue and promising me life.

You talk about significance and I wonder about the stars;

we are one in billions but our shine is still part of the night sky

and even though one day the lines in my arms will stop running

and my vision will be black,

right now the breath within me corrects the brokenness from all the sticks and stones.

I am wanderer, I am transient.

I find glass inside concrete and wipe it clean because history is not a reflection of surroundings

but a reflection of the corruption of fragile hearts,

trapped within walls made of rock and rebellion.

I'll tell you to speak louder when you talk about destruction but I'll find my voice within a whisper

and your inspiration will come from a megaphone instead,

from mouths filled with compromise and unease.

You'll spend years watching sunsets and when you want serenity back

you'll find me in a farmhouse

listening to the creaks in the stairs and remembering the moments

I believed I was the wind.