I, a child of luggaged dreams.
Adrift, with teddy bears and baby dolls between distracted households.
Longing for a sure foot upon the shifting desires of others.
Uprooted with whim and fancy.
See me... For whom does this light shine?
Or is it extinguished in these homes of unformed identities?
Lost reflections in countless playgrounds.
For who holds the mirror when you are a child of children in search of themselves?
There is no escaping the eternal truth that every child must rest their fortunes upon the whims of others.
And who do we become when another's whims make us fortunes fool? A shadow face reflected back in a mirror.
With eyes accustomed to seeing the world half gone.
Broken eyesight a lonely bequest from the past.
And with these antique eyes
I see distorted visions of others intent.
Reflections of disinterest.
I retreat in haste for I have nothing to offer.
My light was extinguished long ago, lost in the void of unformed identities,
which has now become my prison.
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