Knock on my door
Woke me this morning
Made by the hand
Of a well-dressed woman
Whod set aside
Part of her morning
To ask me if I know why Im alive
She walked by a man
Who scours the alley
Each day for cans
To trade for money
To buy a chance
To play the lottery
And when he doesnt win, he starts the cycle again
Made to scavenge
Like an animal
So I cannot help
But watch him searchin
For lucky breaks
Just like a vulture
And wonder if
His sense of purpose is any less than what Im gettin here
Bettered by wealth
And education
But just as unsettled
And impatient
I am too easily sustained
I cant sleep
If I am made to obey
Then why this brain
This plague of intellect that infects
Any peaceful state
Cause I cant say
If anything
Is meaningful
Or some impulse to trick me into
Another day
Of this grey
