Lament of the Exile

I do not mean to trouble you, but very little options remain to me. When helping to build something only to have it taken away. Crushed, I am broken, but unyielding, trailing the pains of rejections and codependence chasing a love that never existed.

To rebuild is my only choice, I've spent my entire life doing this, my entire existence on the fringe, alone, a latch key to an empty home. Perhaps I will never find my place in that, maybe I'll find peace in accepting this solitude. I'll grow my garden, sow seeds song and lyric, then the butterflies will visit me as once visited them.