Squished tight
in this bottle’s
neck,
~
Choking-
We get the point!
Our seed fell amongst
the thorns
we grew ourselves.
~
All druthers…
desires…
be now surrendered.
Slaves to survival,
we’ve become.
~
So much rocky ground;
many paths to extinction;
no fertile fields
in sight.
~
Insight!
~
Any hope resides
in casting our seeds widely.
Indeed;
that deed’s our duty
to our tiny tribe
in dire need
of progeny.
~
There is not time
for discrimination!
There can be
no selection.
~
We know not…
Care not…
from whom
salvation
comes.
~
We need each mutation…
Any happenstance …
A chance .
~
The least glimmer,
faintest hint of light
to stand proudly erect
within the crush of night.
Aroil in Pain 
I feel like this needs a bit of exposition- which of course, means it doesn’t stand alone as all good poetry should. So the impetus for this was a guestion posed by a friend; “Can you create something that expresses what life would be like if the whole world consisted of 100 people?”
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