Ability Poem by Robert Goltz

We lean towards the usual, nothing out of our casual swing.
Usually leaving, coming, and going, never on time for anything.
We plead to the masses, we plead to the scene.
We plead to anyone, but no one hears a thing.
I bleed just like you, but you throw me aside.
I feel what you feel, but you destroy me inside.
There’s a message, there’s a meaning. There’s a time, and a place.
There’s something we don’t understand. There’s infinity, there’s space.
We’re nothing, we’re everything. We’re sorted, we’re confused.
We seem to never find out what we have until we’ve nothing to lose.
We’re racers and doers, we’re givers, and we’re hosts.
We’re shakers and movers, and we’re able – at most.