August 11

I came to this world in hope
of never taking more than my share
more than the cast off scraps
more than what was just
and necessary to breathe
to move unpassingly through.

 

What kind of greed is this?
What brand of rude? To hope
to pass unnoticed beneath
the eye of the sun, some disguised
weed suckling resources and taking
not enough to create anything in return.

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Author:

A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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