I’m a statistic
On a chart,
A faceless logistic
That fell apart.

I’m a demographic,
All the same,
Stuck in traffic
Without a name.

No individual mark,
My identity gone,
Light gone dark
That lingers on.

What we live
Last beyond birth.
Love we give
Shows our worth.

About John Northcutt Young

I write. Remember making-up stories from spelling words in the fifth grade. A journalism degree followed. Thanks for looking. View all posts by John Northcutt Young

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