Down to earth I am but of dust Dust particles I see floating in the air Carbon molecules

I need to tell you How to survive With our disposition It’s okay to cry Maybe

Bags full of diapers Cars waiting in line Smell coming from the load Ashamed it was mine He noticed my insulin pump

Most women are cooks But a man who cooks Is a chef She cooks over and over To feed the masses

I had it all In my head And then I said Words I do not know which ones

Nothing makes people flee Like reading them poetry They value it in theory But please don’t make them read Surprise me with your verse

I’ve known Deep inside All along My value That I matter

Blonde eyes To match her hair Life is mean She counts her blessings Hopes for the best