Stuck

Life no longer fits. It’s to tight, to hectic, to crowded. There are to many things in the closet. To many pairs of shoes, pants, shirts, blouses, dresses,. All Hanging pressed against each other, no room to spare. 

 To many ideas that can never come true. To many decisions, to many thoughts, to many choices, to many to do’s, no freedom. No sneak away kisses, no time to dream, no fancy meals, no extra sleep.

. It’s all hanging on a thread. 24 hours of gripping, fingers dug into rock, pulling yourself up and over your mountain. At least off the edge one more day. Impoverished , lacking wealth. In the line of people that are turned away. Everyday hopes and dreams pushed aside. Stuck and snarled in rush hour commute to make a dime, a living but not a life. 

I’m not on the street but homeless at heart. I have food but need a different kind of nourishment, another kind of satisfaction. I need to find where I belong.

Victoria 

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