third culture (kid) person

She told me
write about yours worlds.

I was ecstatic at first
and sat down and wrote
for hours.

But my words sounded empty
and my need to make them all
matter drove me crazy,
I gave up.

Yesterday, I came back
to a place many call my home
yet, they are blind and don’t know
that today, this place doesn’t feel like home.

Rather it feels foreign
and strange. I doubt it,
“did I live here?”

Then I remember her
words, and I’m sure
writing about my worlds…
will be easier now.

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