Yours or Mine

We watch them thrown onto the streets.

We watch them being shoved apart.

We watch their worlds being shattered.

We watch pain pierce their hearts.

But why should we mind?

Their struggles aren't yours or mine.

We don't see their hopeless eyes.

We don’t see their bowed heads.

We don't hear their broken cries.

We don't feel their sinking dread.

But why should we be anything but blind?

Their struggles aren't yours or mine.

Do we see their tear stained cheeks?

Why do their tears taste like ours?

Do we feel their trembling heartbeats?

Why does their pulse sound just like ours?

If our tears and heartbeats are of the same kind,

How are their struggles not yours or mine?

Will they watch us drop to our knees

Once our ill-fated autonomy has passed?

Will they watch us fall from the skies,

The so-called angels, devils at last?

But even if they do, why should they care?

Our struggles will not be theirs.