Adrift
we seem less lost than
the innocent man who stands
on death row
falsely accused and
wrongfully convicted
his soul broken by waiting
for the executioner’s touch
we seem less lost than
the politicians spitting boiling vitriol
and cold anger
leaving bodies on their campaign trails
we seem less lost than
the mass shooter
his hate an echo chambered storm
blinded by living under
his own dark clouds
his trigger finger eager
his gun pointed into a crowd
we seem less lost than
those suffering from self-defeat
who plot and plan
to write their own early ends
we seem less lost than
the homeless man on the streets
beyond plagued by mental illness
ranting and raving
screaming and starving
we seem less lost
we think we’re staying sharp
but our thoughts are growing gaunt
we scrape the bottom of our barrels
maintaining and unscrambling is the cost
for us to be less lost