I started walking when i couldn’t find where I began,
then called it home wherever I settled down.
I found I’m fluid when I couldn’t keep a certain shape,
I’m curved or crooked or broken,
whichever you prefer.
I study definitions to try to locate mine,
a sense of self I lost when I left my childhood behind.
There’s a child missing in me.
I’m trying to find the man,
but he’s not visible in how I think and act and am.
I wonder what you’d call me.
I think of the past and remember what you called me.
But now it’s me calling out,
There are no words.