I Don'T Know Poem by Benjamin Feliciano

I sit on a pile of thrown stones.
In the distance sirens moan.
For the most part, the skies are clouded.
A train that I am tempted to hop, cries close by.
Can one distinguish between those burning
And those extinguished?
Sun falls down my back and grips my shoulders.
Wind blows cold, getting colder.
My face is unshaven, my hair is unkempt.
Why do some succeed and others fail in the attempt?
What arrogance has merit?
Why do the lucky not share it?
Rhetorically questioning only myself,
Selfishly worried for only my health.
Hypocrite.
Confused.
Crazed.
I get high time traveling,
While others get blazed.
A leap forward and a misstep.
That is my walk in life:
Sometimes the worst,
Rarely the best.