Without My Consent


I am moving inside and out.

But I am neither here nor there.

I pray for closure, yet wallow in overexposure.

I barely miss an American Flag, as it hangs too low.

I scowl at its purpose.

I wonder,

‘does history deserve this?’

While roaming around my routine…my place in the world.

There is shade for my shadow of doubt.

Mechanically, breathing in and breathing out.

Waiting for the will to shout.


Today, I am late for life…without my consent.

A message missed, stamped but not sent.


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