Being lost is a concept that only the found know of.
I'm not lost.
Neither am I misplaced, AWOL or MIA.
I'm right here,
Watching the world go by, one dreary day after the other.
But that's the problem.
I watch.
I stare.
I see the world go onwards, forwards, without me.
That's what happened.
I've become invisible, transparent, see through.
But not lost.
I didn't want the normal
Nine to five
2.4 children
People carrier
House in the country
Or
Timeshare in Spain.
That's not living
That's existing!
I don't want to exist or just be.
But I'm not like everyone else.
I don't go about trying to live the perfect life.
Maybe it is perfect because of it's imperfections.
I suppose I am lost
Alone
Orphaned by everyone else.
But it doesn't matter
Not in the end anyway
The only eternal truth is we are born and that we die.
Maybe we are the found ones.
Did anyone think of that?
