"Today, my mother died… or maybe it was yesterday…"
"This city speaks in tongues I almost learned to love."
Ten winters, ten summers, I’ve called this neon maze my home
Bowed heads, silent trains, no eye contact, just phones
They call me Mister Wayne — not with respect, but distance
The smiling kind, polite yet firm: “You’re different.”
I learned the honorifics, the handshakes, the cues
Still stumble at counters, still misunderstood
In cafés, they switch to English too soon
As if my tongue’s too heavy to lift their words
I’ve laughed at jokes I didn’t get
Applauded things I never met
Just to belong, just to blend —
But I remain the accent they can’t forget
I’m Mr. Wayne in Seoul — a stranger in my skin
I stand in crowds and fade within
No map, no roots, no real role
Just echoes of a man who thought he could belong
I taught their kids, bowed like monks
Shared soju shots, cheered their goals
I held their hearts in half-pronounced words
But I forgot how my own name sounds when it hurts
I dreamed in Hangul, cried in silence
Dated love I never called mine
On buses, my knees too wide
In meetings, my thoughts always… mistranslated
I’m Mr. Wayne in Seoul — a stranger in my skin
I stand in crowds and fade within
No map, no roots, no real role
Just echoes of a man who thought he could belong
So I flew back to Oklahoma plains
My dad said, “Boy, speak American again.”
But I spoke slower, softer, stranger
Even my mirror calls me “foreigner”
They asked about K-pop, dramas, trends
“Do you know BTS?” — again and again
I nodded, lied, and grinned through teeth
Knowing even here, I’m just a novelty
“You’ve changed,” my brother says with a laugh
But I don’t think he meant it as a compliment
The soil remembers, but the people don’t
And even the wind feels secondhand
I’m still Mr. Wayne, whether East or West
Never home, just an unfamiliar guest
Don’t pity me, don’t sing my song
Just know — some of us belong nowhere too long
"Mr. Wayne… in Seoul… in nowhere… in me."
"Today, my mother died… or maybe it was yesterday…"
"This city speaks in tongues I almost learned to love."
Ten winters, ten summers, I’ve called this neon maze my home
Bowed heads, silent trains, no eye contact, just phones
They call me Mister Wayne — not with respect, but distance
The smiling kind, polite yet firm: “You’re different.”
I learned the honorifics, the handshakes, the cues
Still stumble at counters, still misunderstood
In cafés, they switch to English too soon
As if my tongue’s too heavy to lift their words
I’ve laughed at jokes I didn’t get
Applauded things I never met
Just to belong, just to blend —
But I remain the accent they can’t forget
I’m Mr. Wayne in Seoul — a stranger in my skin
I stand in crowds and fade within
No map, no roots, no real role
Just echoes of a man who thought he could belong
I taught their kids, bowed like monks
Shared soju shots, cheered their goals
I held their hearts in half-pronounced words
But I forgot how my own name sounds when it hurts
I dreamed in Hangul, cried in silence
Dated love I never called mine
On buses, my knees too wide
In meetings, my thoughts always… mistranslated
I’m Mr. Wayne in Seoul — a stranger in my skin
I stand in crowds and fade within
No map, no roots, no real role
Just echoes of a man who thought he could belong
So I flew back to Oklahoma plains
My dad said, “Boy, speak American again.”
But I spoke slower, softer, stranger
Even my mirror calls me “foreigner”
They asked about K-pop, dramas, trends
“Do you know BTS?” — again and again
I nodded, lied, and grinned through teeth
Knowing even here, I’m just a novelty
“You’ve changed,” my brother says with a laugh
But I don’t think he meant it as a compliment
The soil remembers, but the people don’t
And even the wind feels secondhand
I’m still Mr. Wayne, whether East or West
Never home, just an unfamiliar guest
Don’t pity me, don’t sing my song
Just know — some of us belong nowhere too long
"Mr. Wayne… in Seoul… in nowhere… in me."