we are the kids in a box
only capable of loving those who are like us
driving big black shiny mercedes cars
going to colleges that cost sixty-thousand
dollars a year so we can make money
being doctors and lawyers and big business people
even if some of us would rather do something else.
we are isolated by the competition of our supposed
"friends" and really our only friends are
ourselves and our big dogs guarding our
seven thousand square foot homes with
three-car garages and shiny new kitchens and
grand pianos that nobody even plays.
but we think, perhaps we know, that maybe
the grass isn't greener elsewhere, for us at least
because we know we have it good
and we don't know where elsewhere could be anyway
and we are happy this way if not ecstatic
so we thank our guardian angels and count our lucky stars
and cross our fingers that we never chase our dreams
we wonder are we alone? of course we are.
are we lost? i can never tell.

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Poetrywe are the broken//we are the corrupt//we are the shallow #54 poetry (2/23)