We are like ants, please stop stomping on us?
Are we rodents, is that why you use us?
If we turn into butterflies will you let us fly away
can we be birds instead and escape our cages?

 

We are unique, but you say we are just a few
are you overestimating our value
can we be rescued?
Our hearts are filled with rage
our sculpture of clay, time turned grey
you say that you cannot count us,
or is it count on us?

 

When is enough going to be enough, I’ve had enough
There is nobody to turn to when times are tough.
Do we turn to ourselves, our friends? I wish I had any
are we even allowed to be alive, is there something in our body?

 

 

Countless by Lucas J. Hewitt

My top 3 previous poems if you feel like reading some more:

Breathless

Colorless

Soundless

 

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