These walls, this house, this place
Used to bring me comfort and warmth,
But now I get a feeling of misplacement—
A chill that has numbed me as I've aged,
A chill in my bones that can't be contained,
But only thawed if I was ever pushed out,
Finally emotional and finally on my own,
Engulfed in suffocating flames,
Driving me along the new road
Far from the smoke clouding my mind,
Devouring the breathable air of the outside,
Using my chump change for all it was worth,
Getting more out of it than you'd ever believe
While driving my dodge neon on the open sea,
Letting the waves take me with my mind floating…
…Aimlessly, but lively with possibility on my own,
Enjoying the process like it's all I've ever known,
Like I was born with nothing,
And not the privileged kind of nothing,
But the worst kind nothing, the real kind of nothing,
The immigrant with only clothes kind of nothing,
The kind where I'd be forced to transform
Nothing into something.
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