You think you matter?
You think you make a difference?
You think
anybody
really
care about you?

The street
don’t care.

About nobody.

You can try
to get yours,
but it gets
you
in the end.

No way you 
getting out.

You as stuck here
as me,
but,
there is one thing
different
about us:

You think
good people
are out there,
on the street.

I know the truth:
we all
nothing
but
bags
of blood
and bone,
and
–for some of us–
a survival instinct.