Lost in the middle of a familiar no where. Unaware of the future. I'm lost waiting to be found. Stranded. Held captive by my conscious. Afraid. I have the key, but I fail to set myself free. So I lay here, staring at the clouds, allowing the whistling wind to tickle my skin. The fresh pine scent mixes with the aroma of my spearmint gum. Kind
of reminding me of what home once was. If I'm honest I've never had a home. I'm a nomad, hopelessly pleading the stars for answers, moving from place to place.
