The Exiled
I see myself as the exiled
He who writes in the solitude of his room observing life from a distance
wondering how life might feel in the midst of people’s warmth
yet he's bound to the silence of lonesome stride
writing about feelings that are never destined to be his
dreaming to be the poem for once immortalized by words that aren’t his
I am the exiled
a nomad
wandering through life, untethered and free
maybe that was meant to be my destiny
a solitary quest, despite my heart's unrest
searching for belonging
but realising that it might not be for this lifetime
under the moons gaze, through the starry maze
the exile wanders
while his observations feed his desire
that can’t be satisfied
because people might not understand his madness.

© jasonbouti