Indecisive in the direction I go,
I am the wind.
Every misguided step to nowhere,
I am a ten-second dream of hope.
Having nothing to offer like fruitless branches,
I am a tree.
Ebbing and flowing—constantly unbalanced,
I am the tide.
Feeling out of place with others around,
I am a flower in a forest.
When I get lost in my flaws, I ask,
“How can I be lost if I am everywhere?”