A Moth without a flame;
A person without a name;
Someone with too much shame
To ever stand alone;
Alight with all the same
Possibilities as a stone:
To fate, all that I can do is wait.
Wait for a thing that’s real,
Like Coca-Cola but with less sugar.
In the meantime I’ll feel
Like a bean in a damn pressure cooker
Just waiting to be soft,
To be given an ice bath.
All my hopes aloft,
That I may be given a flight path
Back to the runway I so desperately desire
In the mire of my own stupidity about what could be.