What Are We Made Of?
I wonder how
The fates decide
About who lives
And about who dies
I question the brick
I’m walking on
Should it be dirt?
Or should it be stone?
I look at the world
With unkindly eyes
And ask if the universe chooses
The matter of our lives
Is mine made of cotton?
Or wood or stone?
What is it made of
That would leave me alone.
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