The Best of Us
It’s hard for things to get worst,
When there is nothing of which you care.
You lay with the rest of us,
Far from the best of us.
Consumed in nothing and fully aware.
Loving is a gift and not something they’d need to hear.
Carefully to be not so careful,
They’re others but not alternates,
Colored in every colorless.
Out of sight but within mind,
They’re hidden in the trees
And swallowed by the shadows.
Swept with the wind and curled in the clouds.
It holds the best of us.
Beneath the bridge and
Above your great god’s hands,
Is the difference of the best of us.
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