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.

The End

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