Words spit from their open mouths into a humid air
Dripping with entitlement, but dry of reality
Noon, the high sun shoots straight down
Their dilated eyes singed and compounded on
"Why me?" and "I want"
Golden ladders - climbing, hanging - all the same
Decisions made, but still forgetting the reasons
Adding new rungs of ochre, made of sand
They ask what the world has done for them
They seek who else can further give
Abstaining from thought and responsibility
Yet they are smiling! So help me in reconciling
My truth and hope - rapidly dividing
Let the hourglass catch and turn
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