Sunday’s Poetry Post

Nobody

 

I’m a statistic

On a chart,

A faceless logistic

That fell apart.

 

I’m a demographic,

All the same,

Stuck in traffic

Without a name.

 

No individual mark,

My identity gone,

Light gone dark

That lingers on.

 

What we live

Last beyond birth.

Love we give

Shows our worth.

 

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About John Northcutt Young

I write. Remember making-up stories from spelling words in the fifth grade. A journalism degree followed. Thanks for looking.
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