Life is a bulletproof vest full of stitches
Shot at on every block
While opportunity knocks
Misery rocks as it seeks company
When it does it also invites empathy
Sometimes empathy shows up
And other times  it doesnt

The Homeless hug blocks for comfort
While the fortunate beg for time
Is this all worth it?

Is dying rich more valuable than living broke?
Or is living broke more valuable than dying rich?

I ask this because a wound cut deep knows know value of who it hurts

Pain is ignorant, it knows know race or social economic status
It’s only agenda is to break us or make us

When death comes for us
No bulletproof can save us