I've been on this planet about thirty days,
And so far it hasn't been fun,
No one will tell me just why I am here,
Or when my time will be done,
I wanna go home and I wanna go now,
I don't care about how I got here,
Then again I don't know where I am from,
I just know that I'd rather be there,
I'm sure I will leave here eventually,
But by then I'll have just settled in,
And then they will move me to someplace I know,
Where the whole damn thing starts over again.
About the Creator
qp Murphy
I am a sixty-six year old non-binary bisexual with three adult sons and five grandchildren. I am Retired, Self-Actualizing, I work in several media including Photography, Writing, & Poetry,
Where there's Art there's Heart
Here's a stupid thing: I adore art, but I start to panic whenever I step into a gallery. In the one place I should be at my contented best - surrounded by walls teeming with creative expression - I fall apart. What ought to be an enriching experience, tacitly designed to facilitate the exploration of human empathy and perspective, is for me an overwhelming purgatory of anxiety that compresses me to the point I cannot breathe. At the same time, I experience a sense of extraction, as though my head is being prized open to create a hole so big my sanity could evaporate. Somewhere between these two opposing forces of vice and vortex, I feel myself dissolving in a stream of panic that makes me want to cry; and I feel so daft feeling this way, that all I want to do is run for the hills.
By Caroline Janea day ago in Humans
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