I want to know where the wild ones are
the ones that have eaten gravel for all three meals of the day
know how to land a punch better than they know what they are feeling
that grin at a skinned knee and know exactly how much alcohol they can drink
before it's their cut off point
with eyes that forgot how to deny from so long of doing so.

the ones that are just a little more human than the rest of us
just a little more versed at life and
loss and
love.

the ones that have hurt before
know they will hurt again
yet still rise from the bed of expectation and
forget to make it
and carry on the only way they have learned
to.