Some People

Some people are born to claw at the dirt
and some to wander through clouds.
Some people seek solace through heartache,
and some in the heat of the crowd,
and we were born of a different breed,
we have no want; we have no need;
no earthly friend or heavenly nemesis;
no knowledge gleaned since Genesis.
And
we are the space between the shadow and the wall,
The truth left in a tale grown tall,
The stinger crouching in a well-worn boot,
The plundering losers who scorn what they loot,
And all that we see, and all that we know
Will burn – will burn – will burn – just so,
until all the world’s as empty and free
as useless, as beautiful – as you; as me.

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