The world is full of people,
So complex and bizarre,
That we use substitutes in place
Of people as they are.
Real people are inscrutable,
Way too hard to define:
So we affix our labels,
Then move on down the line
The world is full of people,
So complex and bizarre,
That we use substitutes in place
Of people as they are.
Real people are inscrutable,
Way too hard to define:
So we affix our labels,
Then move on down the line
Behold, the life of Mercy as she goes about her day;
She is a doctor: you know, rich and spoiled —
How can this be, that she should stop to comfort on her way
The grieving of a sad, afflicted child?
How can it be that she should stoop to dry this small one’s tears?
That will not get her name in magazines —
How is it Mercy’s life should be so full of her own name?
Can meaning dwell in lives so full of means?
my new neighbor’s a doctor
now in practice on his own
his wife’s a doctor too
but still an intern
they both work insane hours
it must be a hectic life
it’s strange to think
they’re objects of some envy
their lives: imperfect, messy
but because of where they are
it’s somehow thought that they
live lives of ease
but there’s no guarantee
that either one will be successful
they both work hard
that’s all that i can see
but characterization
boxes other people in
to wherever our prejudice
might think
but this is not reality
and never has it been
my neighbors have big dreams
that’s all i see