Day #18. Some people are young and nothing else (poem)

Footnote on the construction of the masses

Some people are young and nothing
else and
some people are old and nothing
else
and some people are in between and
just in between.

And if the flies wore clothes on their
backs
and all the buildings burned in
golden fire,
if heaven shook like a belly
dancer
and all the atom bombs began to
cry,
some people would be young and nothing
else and
some people old and nothing
else,
and the rest would be the same.
The rest would be the same.

The few who are different
are eliminated quickly enough
by the police, by their mothers, their
brothers, others; by
themselves.

All that’s left is what you
see.

It’s
hard.

(Charles Bukowski)