Where I am is a platform
Below me is soil, a block of concrete and a flower
Above me is the roof
And a window that opens to all above me
Far high that my hopes are hopeless
A glimpse below reveals
Faces of various phases of defeat,
Faces which see nothing below, yet a myriad above
Above where I am and
Above, above where I am.
Constant drops of dirty water to the flower bed below
Keeps the flower blooming
And blooming keeps them hoping
Yet those above me are fidgeting over the dilemma
Of many empty drums.