You know the feeling when you're where you shouldn't be?
I know it very well inside my dreams.
When faces look with such distain,
it's so distracting I forget my name.
And where I'm from, and how to breathe
I cease to remember I am a key
not the lock,
solitary and still,
I am a traveling key with a heart of will,
To journey far from what I've known,
past the pound of the skipping stones.
Through the forest for the trees,
far from where you know me.
This sparrow ventures far,
but she always comes back.
Plain as day, with eyes of the blackest black.
I travel far so I can truly see,
what it was I was hiding with lock, to make me a key.




















































































































