Peering into the soul,
My friend, a story once he told.
Of how he loved to blot the page
And make his own Rorschach test.

Similarly, I have this tiny habit
To read people and their habits.
Just to make my soul and brain age,
I do this every day without fail.

To be in love with melancholy,
Reading the ends first in a story.
To adore the lovely petrichor,
To sit and hear the sounds of shore.

Habits unknown. Personalized.
Ungoverned, unrecognized.
Secretive and yet explored.
To the world, they seem odd.


Lutalica (noun): The Part of Your Identity that Does Not Fit Into Categories.



P.s. Check out John’s YouTube channel, The Dictionary Of Obscure Sorrows, right here. He makes amazing words like the one this poem is all about, Lutalica.


One thought on “Lutalica

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