Us and Them

Not many are left any more.

On the one hand there’s us. With the weight of our volition, with the one way street of our transition. With the debt of relinquishing those who walk on their knees. Us, with the responsibility of bearing a road which never hid any promises. Us, who smile with our teeth tight when they talk to us about our ideals.

And next to us, the others. With a tiny free map in their words and a pencil on our tongue. With their kind acts and unkind words, offering paralysis as a solution right when the running kicks off. Those with a clock on their back, there where no mirror ever helps you see. The people whose life runs through them yet somehow think the opposite is just the same. The people that you walk straight through, those you won’t find at the place where you will be tomorrow, the people who have only one date carved on them.

Not many are left any more.

I fear for those who are still left to be found.
I fear how this may mean we caught up on them.
I fear that maybe they waited for us.
I fear what will be standing across from them when they wave hello.

On the one side, us. Us, with our need to exist in more than just a singular number, us with the thirst for causes of mistakes. Us, who say “the others” easily, yet the solitude of ease hurts us deeply. Us, who want more, not for today but for there.

And across from us, the others, with their chances drying up from the many mistakes their brothers drunk up. Across from us, them, the people we will rob a thousand times but not all of them will be at their expense. The undefeated, new people, with stories you can understand, if not remember. With dreams you can order and with pain that goes away if you don’t think of it.

Not many are left any more.

Us, who no longer want words to be needed
And the others, who no longer have something to say.

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