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Deserving Worth
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Dusk's Rule It's a feeling, a question that begs an answer,
While left undefined it grows like a cancer,
Eating away at the mind, heart, and soul,
Leaving the face in the image of a scowl,
What is the meaning, the feeling, of worth?
What am I, you, or we really worth?
It is added to and subtracted from,
Whether you are smart or dumb,
Does it matter what place you live in,
Or measured in the amount of sin,
Should it take in the worth your car?
Should we count each battle scar,
The idea drives and enslaves us,
Whether you drive or ride the bus,
Is your worth by if you're rich,
Or sleeping each night cold in a ditch?
Maddening minutes, question not asked,
Keep count of all demands tasked,
And running to keep up with each hour,
It leads us down, the heart begins to sour,
Screaming for appreciation,
Is it measured by fans in a nation?
Do we count all things we love,
Or the price tag on our clothes,
Those we pick up, instead of shove,
The question begs to expose--
Whether we are measured by the thoughts of others,
Or by the reflection in the mirror,
By them, the others, friends, brothers, mothers?
By the moments we believe we shimmer?
Is the idea that worth is a man made thought,
Something that should be sought?
If all things are stripped down and viewed,
You can see what worth is in the nude,
An idea that drives and enslaves us,
Move after move, for worth, for money, just chess,
We scream and work to be worth,
Something to someone, by all,
It's how a civilization will fall,
When we work to live, to make it worth
--it.
