da~wizard
12-31-2004, 07:26 PM
Where is This Place?
Where is this place for me? I search and I search,
longing to find the place where I fit in, yet, it eludes me.
I am like a small child chasing a butterfy. Each
time I get close, it flies away. I am like a puzzle.
Not the whole puzzle or the picture the puzzle represents,
but that missing piece which makes the puzzle incomplete.
I try. Oh how I try to fit in, but I cannot. Maybe
it's because I am like no one or no one is like
me. I bore so easily. I do not find interest in
the things that interest others, but I try. These
things seem so unimportant and trivial to me. I am
in search of a greater cause, a higher sense of
self worth. People become content with just having
material possessions. Material possessions mean
nothing to me. They are like trinkets or toys, one
has as a child. At first they are fascinating and fun,
then they lose their appeal. They become ordinary
things strewn into a toy box among the other ordinary
things that were once also, objects of affection, must-
haves. I am like those toys in the toy box, hoping,
wishing to catch someone's eye, so once again I will
be held in high regard. Once again, I will be the object
of someone's affection, until I lose my grandeur all over
again and am thrown into another toybox to repeat
the cycle all over. Where is this place for me?
Dawizard 12/5/01
Where is this place for me? I search and I search,
longing to find the place where I fit in, yet, it eludes me.
I am like a small child chasing a butterfy. Each
time I get close, it flies away. I am like a puzzle.
Not the whole puzzle or the picture the puzzle represents,
but that missing piece which makes the puzzle incomplete.
I try. Oh how I try to fit in, but I cannot. Maybe
it's because I am like no one or no one is like
me. I bore so easily. I do not find interest in
the things that interest others, but I try. These
things seem so unimportant and trivial to me. I am
in search of a greater cause, a higher sense of
self worth. People become content with just having
material possessions. Material possessions mean
nothing to me. They are like trinkets or toys, one
has as a child. At first they are fascinating and fun,
then they lose their appeal. They become ordinary
things strewn into a toy box among the other ordinary
things that were once also, objects of affection, must-
haves. I am like those toys in the toy box, hoping,
wishing to catch someone's eye, so once again I will
be held in high regard. Once again, I will be the object
of someone's affection, until I lose my grandeur all over
again and am thrown into another toybox to repeat
the cycle all over. Where is this place for me?
Dawizard 12/5/01