You're something few claim to see
and others barely believe in.
Home is where you make it-
here,
or there-
but you're wanted less
anywhere.
Hidden in plain sight;
it's your right to change
and it's okay for you
to remain.
Living in a shell
of self...a blanket
of clouds shroud you out
and away...where you end up
isn't always
where you want to be,
but so what?
If you're somewhere, then surely
you must be someone...
says anyone.
You're a sight
unseen.
You're a light
disbelieved.
Hope is what you make of it-
alone,
on your own-
not what anyone else says
when they think they know
what's best for you.
Living in a shape
shifting...clay walking
untouched by the eyes of
strangers passing by...you're
anyone, wishing maybe
upon maybe
to be someone...or
not just anyone.
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