I went home to no home, now I'm stacking sticks to try and be me a little.
Mask on because I'm worried these people might see me as little.
I panic in a clam way so life treats me no different.
I move the same even when the movements are different.
I'm trying to be me even when being me feels distant.
Roaming around the galaxy.
Waiting to crash, to orbit, to float...
Waiting for answers.
Waiting to wait.