50 YEARS AFTER…

50 years after…

I still have no name; I roam about in a strangely given name

I am bits and pieces of a number of things, places and peoples

I have no home and can’t feel at home anywhere; a vagabond?

I am not; but my fate is aligned to his.

My story cannot be told in a hurry…

50 years after, I am still confused as to my paternity; I claim one thing

I still limp, while my mates are walking…

Amidst the turbulence of time, I live

Fractured and abused; hope meets me on the road

And questions my intentions and pursuits. I, a mind

Filled with ideas, is lost in the matrix of another person. A case for life is made on my behalf,

But I care not for living if life is just another existence!

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