All Inside and Around

I am one in a string of ideas.
The lightbulb above my head flashes
in a precarious, broken way.
But I never give up...
Because giving up is for quitters.
And I'm too strong for that...
...I think.
What happened to all that I had?
It's like I was a soldier who
lost everything only to come back to
everything he had,
and realize its nothing.
Feelings sometimes feel deeper
than the oceans.
At least deeper than they should.
Of course I talk to myself.
It's my only way of staying sane
to tell myself, "Kid it'll be okay."
Who else says so anyways?
I know I'm chasing dreams but
I don't chase the impossible.
Never and can't dont ring bells
in this head of mine...
...Except sometimes. Like on
those long sleepless nights.
I've become sick and tired like
a starving insomniac.
Pacing back and forth inside the
lattitudes and longitudes
of a very solitary mind
that sees over and through
everything.
But I'm lost and waiting
to be lost and found.
Everything has a purpose just like
the night comes and goes.
I know mine but I don't know
if you know yours.
I can't save the world. Just
one person at a time.
And I'm trying so hard.
But steel walls are hard
to move and
I'm not a supehero.