I remember several months ago
I met a guard by a waiting shed
As I waited for my dad to pick me up from the pier
His name, I've already forgotten
He was around his 40s, or 50s
Childless, if I remember
Had a tough life
Graduated in International Relations
Came from a well to do Chinese family
Yet all came crashing down so soon
After a few decisions then and there
He spoke to me in English
We talked for awhile
He said, people usually looked down
On guards like him
Thinking they were uneducated
They couldn't possibly have interesting lives
And at that moment I realized
People pass by every single day
Without giving them second glances
Without realizing they're human too
With stories as exciting as those in screens.

My father arrives to pick me up.
I stand up, glance at the guard and my father, and I see -

Life is truly spectacular.

As I sit by the passenger seat and drive  away
The scenery changing before my eyes
I wonder if I was the first person to just sit down
And listen
I wonder how many sat down by that waiting shed before I did
Listening to his story
And I wonder how many have since then and will continue to
Listen
I wonder if I'll ever pass by him again
I wonder where he is right now
Is he still by that waiting shed?
Did he ever get a child?
Does he still remember me?
Was it perhaps all a dream I made up?
Who knows?

I wonder with glee and sadness
Knowing there are billions out there
With stories I will never know.

In my own waiting shed, I shall tell my story too,
Through my own fleeting life
Through the decisions I'll make
Through the people I'll love
Through the people I'll lose
Through these poems -

And I hope somebody listens.

All people are born the same, naked and cold. Some may come into advantage and some may be lacking, but we are all human. Our lessons are taught to us by others. What we do with knowledge is left to us. Some of us cannot see past a skewed vision of reality. Some humans let superficial differences define who and what they are. In reality it is character that matters more than what we look like. Because we are all equal in the end as the in beginning. For we all come to the same end, and what we do between life and death is more important that our outer selves.

I'm not ashamed to say
that today,
my ***** look impeccable.
They do—
and that makes me beam
in every possible way.
See,
we're rounding a long winter,
and it's cloudy outside.
I'm smart enough to know
that most days—
you have to make
your own god ****** sunshine.