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Oblivious
October 11, 2009
I stare through the world as if
my eyes are immortal.
As if every woman in this world,
every man who was born,
could see.
I strut on the dirt as if I couldn’t
be buried in it tomorrow. And
if I don’t look closely
I can believe
that no one has died.
It’s easy to breathe only the air
around me,
to never strive for anything more,
anything sweeter, anything stronger.
Some people never get air.
Some people would love to breathe
a little of what
I throw away.
© Miranda B., Neosho, MO
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