• Little Things in Life
    In every hole, life blossoms.
    Insects feed, plants breathe.
    Puddles of water collect as the center of this life.
    The hole is a city of its own.

    Every hole dug has a purpose.
    People are put in holes;
    either dead or in a frantic struggle.
    Holes are considered a nuisance;
    if only they could see what I could see.

    A shelter, a home.
    Something a homelss kid would want.
    It feeds hunger, it cleanses thrist.
    It's the only thing we need.
    Too blinded by the greed
    to see what I can see.