The Struggle in the face of the Smothering

When they inevitably fall into the cracks

That litter the whole of the world

The lesser people will sit and fester

Like the infected open wounds that they are

While others will struggle tooth and nail

Clawing their ways to the top

Demanding to be heard

Demanding to be known

But in the end they still know

We are but the ashes

Of a dying stars whims.