I see myself on their faces.
They walk the streets at night,
lit up by frail streams of light as they go.
They step on cracks
and pass trees dying for the next rain.
They shuffle through headlights that capture
what they don’t want you to see.
I don’t mind.

They talk about nothing
and laugh at stupidity,
beckoning each other
with open arms and wide smiles.
They waste away their lives
taking drinks and walking miles.
Their shouts are loud and absconding,
as they scream to the heavens
and sing to the moon.
They don’t care.

They paint portraits with their words,
give grins of innocence with acts of hate.
Reliving old characters and old ways,
they wrestle with esteem.
I don’t mind.

I watch their strange paths.
They tell lies and form truths.
Seeking out themselves,
They never know who is who.

I see myself on their faces.