The Title Comes Last

Soul searching,

Cannot find map.

Legs have gotten tired,

Eyes burning with unshed,

Unwanted tears.

 

How long was this road an hour ago?

A year ago?

Ten years ago?

 

Am I really lost,

Or am I reluctant?

Am I tired,

Or am I depressed?

Am I wandering,

Or am I listless?

 

What is the point,

I’m trying to reach?

What is the purpose,

I’m trying to fulfill?

Who am I?

Why am I here?

 

When does a title start to make sense?

Great Expectations.

Persuasion.

To Kill a Mockingbird.

Writer.

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