I grab
reach for straws
try to find a place
to fit in

Hands pretend
to care
but lines are thrown
out on their terms
only

I look
for somewhere
I can slip into a
pattern

Where I can be part
of a weaving
formed into one
piece

There are signs
that I may be allowed
welcomed
to stay

But only
within the
box of their own
design and
not allowed
to color
outside the line

Trust must be
given away
meted out
carefully
and not with
too much hope

It is better
to build

your own brick
house
where doors
can be locked

and windows
barred
safer to be alone

than teased
into thinking
you are worthy

.

.

.

Author’s Note:

Day 26 – NaPoWriMo – almost there.