on fitting in

buy into the aesthetic,
the portrayal of a perfect life:
i am my own
edatrix of my edifice,
not a single truth, nor a single lie.
i wish i was a wanderer, a wonderer
but i am a
home body,
home bound,
land tied.
at least i can claim,
i really have tried –
i beat that horse
until it died.
for you i’ve cried,
and drained my pride –
but i think, for now, love,
i’ll just stay inside.

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