Poetry - Rubble

I may not tow the line you draw

I do not draw my own line to tow

I am not a rebel

I may not follow the system

I do not disrupt it

I am not an anarchist

I may not fit in any of your slots

I do not exist outside of it

I am not a nobody

I am the rubble at the end of the road

to some I stink

to some am still useful

they dump what is theirs

but has no place in their homes

has no place in their lives

Sometimes dogs come and sniff

they lick me pick me chew on me

I let them for they feel me

Sometimes come the rag pickers

they assort me sort me use me

I let them for I empathy them

But sometimes just sometimes

come the rare species

they find their art in me

lifting my spirits

giving me a slot

no more a rubble

There is gold in me

there is dirt in me

You can take the gold

thinking you have taken me

but I am not the gold

I am not the stink

I am the whole lot

I am the rubble

you get the whole lot

or you do not get me