Wanderers

This is for the wanderers. For the lovable misfits. This is for the shattered glass white liars that hold the world together like scotch tape before mom and dad get home and see it's broken. This is for the strangers that aren't all that strange, for the kid who walks home in the cold because gas prices aren't economical. This is for myself. (I know I'm selfish, get over it.)

The stars have yet again lost me.

Turns out the hotter stars burn out faster. They supernova too soon. 

The wind nipped and grabbed at your hair as it tried to pull it from your scalp. The noise was so loud you had to yell. You words meant everything.

"Find your family, find your friends, and find yourself."

I haven't been able to get it out of my head. Partially because I don't understand, partially because it's beautiful. (Oh wait– that's the same thing.)

I remember when a teacher told me I'd never stop looking.

I start with the family.

I found a scrap of them out back. It was rusty, but recognizable. There's another piece in a shoebox in the basement. 

I try out friends.

I found a few pieces in the living room. A few in the kitchen, and one under the bed. I still find it odd I had to look for those ones.

Then, it's time for myself.

I go straight to my room. That's where I'll find the scraps. It's hours before I find a thing. Turns out I should've checked the drawer in my closet first. Regardless, it's not much to go off of. There isn't much left.

Find your family,

find your friends,

find yourself