Orphan

Like the drop from the tip of the hill that gathers mud, flowers, fruits  and debris
I gathered stories, kindness, memories, scars

Like the water that reflects the color of terrain it passes
I reflected the ideas, beliefs of the people who blew and bent my mind.
Contradicting myself , refining myself and redefining myself. 

I Dont know which beliefs I stood by and which beliefs I will stand for. In this constantly changing world: who are u ? seems to be irrelevant.

Migrating to a free will country, staying in the houses I never lived and talking to people who survived extreme conditions have its own side effects. They take away the sound logic, reasoning and philosophy you gathered in life, making you orphan once again.

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