Onze.

Words.

Living in an untold world,
encumbered by someone else's
hopes and dreams.
False likings unrecognizable,
while false pursuits
sweep her away.

Engaging in
impassive hardwork,
though loneliness felt in the heart.
She concedes,
halting the salty dew
of sight's device,
concealing thoughts
through endless flow
of unrhyming words
written on scratch.

She pauses and wonders
about what life would be,
if one way or another,
she would matter.


* Written while waiting for a winter class to start at my high school's parking lot.