There is always too little
Of us to go around, that sharing
I would want to be as mutual
But, I like them more than they can comprehend

Never mind reciprocate, it’s a shame
To be a people loving introvert

Never able to fully express

What you feel inside like
Like a family that went
Horribly wrong carrying the trauma

Without knowing the story
Each time I fall in love, I think
It’s a bit for myself, like sleep lost
In a troubled childhood, that I

No longer remember, or
The fragrance of things that you wish
You could retrieve, like the Sea

Or the forest when you lived in
Tropical countries, where fruits

Felt entirely different in your mouth
And now you labour, a slave more or less

To circumstance and the choices that made you
Choose fate over your own free-will
That you were not aware, were choices at the time.

3 thoughts on “Us

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