A Person

I am, I am who I am, am

This world holds no special place;

But for me and others like me,

It is home, temple, slaughterhouse, palace;

And I am useless and lazy

I have nothing to show for my existence,

I yell and shout and scream,

And I have no patience.

But I look at the trees, 

The little birds in them, their nests and little babies,

Squirrels and crows,

I look at the blinding sun and my eyes burn,

But I still look at the leaves that the wind blows,

I pray to the moon to love me, 

I pray to the stars to take me,

And I pray to the earth to keep me.

This is who I am,

A useless existence,

Sometimes loving and joyful,

Sometimes no more than a pestilence.

But I am, I am who I am, am

Not a hero, not a saint, 

Not a particularly good reason

For you to live, but I am

A person. 

And that's enough.