Dare I ask?
What is my clan?
Nothing.
Honey warm, scawny skin is silenced.
As speechless as spit.
No welcome hands.
Is this a scam?
Shove what I am
Along rude, indigo roads
To bleach like a buck-store bloom.
Look at the crowds,
Stiff stamped shirts,
Pretty print skirts,
Glass and gold encrusted souls
Braided round empty basket eyes.
But who am I
To split the storm,
To leer out loud?
Stop.
Clear.
Clan-less.
Trauma twinge.
Feel a winter of cruel classmates.
I was buried in shards and shapes of ice.
Some strange how... it's the same now
But buried in shards and shapes of eyes.
Voiceless.
Not choiceless.
Dare they ask where I go?
No.
Nothing.
Just gwanden.
-Jeya'da:t
