We Are Nomads

I was raised

with the notion

that mediocrity

is acceptable.

That without

a torque applied,

I’ll sear my mind

on plans unfeasible.

They swore to me

they’d hold my hands

across the bridge

of wood and wool.

That if it shakes,

it’s good to fall.

That else opinions

are void and null.

But in this way

they’ve set me up

to tread on eggshells

in the rough.

The green is better,

but we’re not worthy;

so we feed on what they tell us,

and we live on what we see.

We’ll never know the opulence

or the wealth, or the luxury.

But we are nomads in our dreams,

and that’s all we need, really.

Struggle is no stranger to us;

it casts an unflattering light.

They push their noses up to us;

let down their walls to fuck with us;

say we’re welcome anytime, then

move further from the central line.

We’re ordinary at our best.

Our rivalry has reached its height.

Now it’s time to come to terms

that they are left.

And we

are forced


Photo credit: Ben Heine.

Click here to see the full view and check out his other work.


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