To Commune

Everyone needs people,
To love, to laugh, to cry, to argue.
It gives you a face.

Who are mine?
Who’s to say?
One to Eight Billion is way
too big a difference.

Outside is like tall concrete.
Searing, and traversing’s a nightmare or two.
Far, far away from here
is where anyone’ll be.

For all issues it slams on the table.
The interconnected network that’s letting you
view each and every word here.

It’s the ladle of metal that
Comprises who I am and is still
Just pouring myself onto me.
People are there,
as there are everywhere.

I have no face,
but I will.
If that outlet to
Commune was rendered nil,
I would’ve never been
Set to the path that sees
when the face will be.

toxins have found me.
I admit that.
There are things I
Should’ve taken back.
Things I shouldn’t have
seen there.
But, I would not trade
That for my life.

All that I’ll be.
All that I am.
All from there.