i wonder when they will send for me
they can't seem to keep tabs on this wanderer
i carry less and less every time it's time to move
every time the honeymoon is over
the minute i feel my chest unable to expand
as i hear murmurs for a witch trial
i grab my things, throw everything that's too heavy
into the trash, often guilty that i had no time to give it to someone who needed it
take all the unnecessary shit and seperate it from the ever shrinking pile of things i own
i wonder if this is training for doing away with all of it someday
these are the confessions of a 24 year old gypsy
the only things i steal are sleep and beds, on occasion kisses
becoming increasingly more and more reluctant to pack up every few months
yet becoming wiser every time she is uprooted
catch me if you can
they say they can never find me
they also can't trust me to stay still
i am searching for something constantly
and with this wanderlust, some think i am lost
or simply running away
sometimes, all that's left is to walk away from something you cannot fix
when they ask why i cannot stay
i reply with,
"not all who wander are lost"
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