in the morning
faces blurry faces
crossing my way
they sleep on the sidewalks
falling heavily from the skies
smiling at the ones they hate
flowers in their hair
and thorns in their hearts
will never let them go
but they try anyway
although they know it's hopeless
trying to be something they're not
even though it hurts
them and those around them
they keep on
because they have to
they have nothing else to do
nothing else to hope for
stories their stories
that will never be read
and songs of their lives
which we forgot as fast
as the wind blows
around the faces
the blurry faces
that cross my way
in the morning
after a hot cup of coffee
that we drink to stay awake
in the lives that bore us
because we don't know anything else
not that we didn't try to know
we did