I used to belong in your arms
Home was your touch
But now that you're gone,
I guess my homes just my house.
To fit into a nitch. Be apart of something.
Where do I belong?
Everywhere I go, the nitch is too big, too small.
My angles and corners and shape just won't fit.
I don't even know what my shape is right now.
Who am I?
Maybe I should be figuring out who I am before searching for my nitch.