A poem about identity and belonging.

If you don’t have a history,
if you don’t know where you’re from,
Do you somehow lose your future?
Are you forgotten when you’re done?

Is it ever a lonely being
to feel like you’re from nowhere?
Your peers have a long history
but, for you, there’s nothing there.

Without a beginning, so without an end,
you came from the air and disappeared.
Is it that easy to be forgotten,
when your past was never here?

When your gone, few will know your name,
though many will live in your home.
And the world with never know whether or not
on your backbone, they built Rome.


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