The Same Table

We are all sitting
At the same table.
Some of us have more food,
                               more guns,
                               more oil,
                               more everything.
Some of us will laugh more,
                     will cry more,
                     will sigh more,
                     will feel more.
Some of us will die young,
                      will die old,
                      will die willingly,
                      will never live properly at all.
Some of us wear red,
                     wear blue,
                     wear black,
                     wear all the colours of the rainbow,
Some of us have light skin,
                     have dark skin,
                     have smooth skin
                     have scars criss-crossing our bodies,
But none of us
Sit high enough
          To look down
     On anyone.

I wounded myself
With what cuts you
To see if you would notice, that
You're not alone.
To see the world through your view, that
I might better understand you,
I lost myself
To see how to make it
Back onto the path.
What I saw;
No person was too far gone
That made love their epitaph.

If a writer
Falls in love with you
       you can never
                die................

How do you
Forgive yourself
For all the
Things that
You never
Became?

Why try? Why improve?
Why make progress or even move?

Because

Every hard right or rough start
Or Endless fight on a long night,

Isn't for you, or for him
But for the me I want to become.

And what a sight she will be

this feeling is not
symbiotic: you reduce
my core to nothing