People like us, we are all and nothing, more and less.
We choose to carry borrowed cargo:
Echoes of harsh words and silent nurseries
Scars from skinned knees and heedless wanderings.
We can't leave it be or keep still
Our bodies resting while our minds are
Tracing the well-worn paths we swore we'd stop walking.
People like us, we love to love too much, and yet --
We run headlong into burning buildings and come out smiling.
We blink into the black night and grasp for hands.
We open our hearts like they're not broken.
We laugh at nothing and the joy is real.
We cry at beauty and are not ashamed.
We sing our secrets to the listening world, people like us.