Fitting in
All these people
getting ready to start the day
all these lives combined
why am I so obsessed over mine
do I even belong
am I an intruder in their space
wandering through this maze
of moving life
Even the pigeons fit in
strolling through the streets
looking at their feet
similar wants and needs
of comfort survival
of planting new seeds
but it’s never enough
I should get ready to start the day
maybe they won’t even notice my stay
Traveling can be very tiring. You’re always the outsider, you’re always different, and everything is always new. Sometimes I wonder, I am even welcome here? And sometimes I, some then anything else, want to be invisible.
