Chameleon

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


Floating over the edge
Razor knives
blind me with their reflection of the sun
They tend to come as they come
I search the earth
for the place where I was born
My soul the wanderer
has no home
Places come as they come
I smell the fruits from overseas
I feel the sand beneath my feet
I hear the cries of loneliness
The Inbetweens
Chameleons
To wear our colors with pride
Takes a lot of courage
See we are what we are
we come as they come.


Submitted: March 04, 2019

© Copyright 2021 LightFeather09. All rights reserved.

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