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VOL. IV | ISSUE IV<br />
MARGINS<br />
its minute hand stagnant<br />
but we soon forget the taste of oxygen, and get used to the<br />
darkness that swallows us whole<br />
forgotten, too, are the sounds of the human voice<br />
and instead, echoes begin to haunt us<br />
they hear our breaths, memorize the length of our eyelashes<br />
and the temperature of our skin<br />
they will follow us to our deathbed, and even then, taunt us<br />
with the volume of our misery<br />
but we need only close our eyes to realize that they cannot<br />
they cannot.<br />
we drift and drift<br />
perhaps into oblivion<br />
forgotten by humanity itself<br />
left to waste away in the middle of nowhere<br />
to wade through the stars<br />
ones that shine brightly even long after they’ve disappeared.<br />
we no longer know where we’re headed<br />
nevertheless, we try<br />
we try<br />
and one day, we are found<br />
brought back to planet earth<br />
the place we once called home<br />
it seems like a foreign land<br />
nothing is as we remember it to be<br />
even the faces of our loved ones seem unfamiliar<br />
the hope and excitement of being found is soon replaced with horror<br />
and dread<br />
we are no longer the people we used to be<br />
but we have nowhere to run<br />
at least in space, we never had to feel the excruciating weight of<br />
expectations and hope<br />
we have nowhere to run<br />
not that we can<br />
94<br />
95
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