Ship of Thesaurus

Am I truly lost? Is this the end of the road for me? I decided long ago to shed who I was. Yet I can trace that part of me clearly. It’s imbibed in my skin, pigmented by tattoos. That tells a tale I never wish told. If this is what my life turns out to be. I’m fine with it, I’ve lived my share. I won’t stop trying to be who I want. Someday, there will be a new me. One that embraces everything wrong with this world. But this version cares too deeply. About you, me, us, and the misunderstandings that come our way. I’ll keep shifting my shape, molded by your hands. Until I become me again. 

Sunlight enters the room, making itself known to an empty space. The inhabitants have long gone. Seeking shade elsewhere. Walls that once held laughter  now echo leftovers  of conversations. Wafting in through the windows, dust settles in a corner. It won’t be too long until they’re back home again.