There is little that I do,
That lacks compassion.
Each breath I take,
Is identified with purpose.
And to know that others feel,
Neither zest nor zeal for life to express...
Leaves me to wonder,
How can one awaken each day...
With only pettiness on their mind.
And searching for more of it to inspect,
As if the finding of it is all they expect.
To then become upset,
If their need for it is not immediately found.