there are a million and one
even worse, the ones that aren’t
clichéd in the least
but fail to teach us anything.
sometimes I can paint pictures with words
better than with concrete
practice
and find myself racked with
survivor’s guilt
when others love me
and hate everything else.
life is cruel in the simplest
of ways, usually.
it teaches us that
death is nonselective,
but social injustice is not.
it destroys things we build
so we can build them again
or leave them behind,
so others can utilize the remnants.
we’re a fantastic mess
always refusing change
or accepting it
and life teaches us
that sometimes,
in the same way we are dreamers
we must be restless until the end.