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.

John Northcutt Young

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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