Sort Me Out

My writing has really gotten pretty bad.

--

Something happened in the space of my time
When I got on that flight
and another and another and another
until I thought I'd never be home.

I went to learn, but I forgot
that learning means change and change don't ever stop -
stop shifting and changing and growing close and apart
and before anyone could notice that "me" existed no longer.

No longer "content with the now that i see"
No longer trusting of institutions and guarantees
No longer patient with people who don't do their jobs
No longer okay with being uniform, unassuming, just-like-everyone-else.

And it's funny because in between discussions
About corrupt presidents I couldn't vote for, and insurance that fails a population so much
that a doctor's gotta say "sorry, but you're going to die" to the people who can't afford it (this one really riled me up)
I spent half a year wandering a continent, never really searching
Just absorbing and eating and drinking and singing...

But some how, at "home", the laughter is hidden
Too much is wrong, and there's no time for lunch.
I don't regret that I've changed
and I don't often wish I could go back

I just want you to see me
Happy, sad, angry
Complex, strong, loveable -
Worthy.

And then, please
(i know it's not fair to put my hopes in you)
Wrap me up in a blanket with your ease
And help the misplaced me feel like it's okay.