Fortune

This poem is the cry of someone abandoned.
A wound so carved and deep,
That projected him into the most uninhabitable alleys,
but also elevated him to galaxies never explored.

Friends are his family, harbor, and oxygen.
Chaos is his fortune, destruction, and home.
Attention so non-existent that became his fetish.

Twisted paths,
Faulty decisions,
In the hope of a benevolent future,
Coming from all the smiles once he snatched,
That, like stars, make him brighter.