a row of people
each with a grim face
a single mother, carrying three children,
gripping her neck, as if about to fall off
a homeless man, expired canned soup in hand,
prosthetic leg and a navy badge, his only pride
a schoolboy, struggling with his many feelings,
on love, expectations, and failure
a grandmother, wragged skin, stiff as sandpaper,
widowed and forever alone
a normal family of four,
separated through lies and deception
what is happy?
is it the child you bear at eighteen
is it running off into war to fight for your country
is it studying to become a lawyer in your parent’s firm
is it to live a life alone
is it something spun into a web of lies
is it?
now tell me sad
it is grappling with college tuition and childcare costs
it is the need for a steady income after becoming disabled
it is living everyday like yesterday
it is the jump out of your house to hang with your friends after curfew
it is not even worrying about if you’ll be buried alone, but rather if being buried is occurring
it is, right?
we all know it’s true
but we blame excuses
that simply cover the awaiting demise
everyday we spend living our lives
is another nudge for your bending feet over the chasm
we never really live
we only wait
for death.
-Jeffrey Yang
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