Reading a book aware of your surroundings,
Eyes glazing over pages, numbers and letters,
Sensory overload slowly setting in,
Noticing the papers are your,
Just breathe you tell yourself…
One…
Two…
There…breathe slowly and deeply.
Close your eyes…repeat…repeat…repeat.
The physicality of it all is different.
Traveling the same direction day in and day out,
Morning, noon and night,
The papers you see show what and how people are.
You take notice of there true form.
New York times in your eye sight,
All proud and proper…a black briefcase and a typical image.
Crisp and clear purely…black and white,
Fancy lettering but so much more obscene.
You figure…hiding true character underneath and a pretty image before.
Then there is the wall street journal,
Nicely neat, stacked and always prepared.
Same boring scenario…
Never ending…
Never changing…
You simply just roll your eyes…
Look up and wonder,
The true break down of it all seems more profound.
Yet you look around once again…
Then down to the pieces of paper lying helplessly on the floor,
Societal trash no one looks or notices anymore.
Searching for a place called home,
These papers lack inconsistency and stability,
Simply irritating the surrounding papers.
Everything is ruffled,
All at once…
Noticing the papers are not equal.
Dealing with the realization that they will never be.
Coming from different locations, seen and unseen.
No clarity…no equality.
You determine the papers are known as the characteristics of people.
People of different classes, backgrounds and beginnings.
Simply just that the papers.