Numb-Bers

Poem By Gary Scott Gebert

Numb-bers

List me between the lines,
not fitting into your mold—
generic as brand names go.
A notch below what that crowd desires
or wants this time around.
Labeled as incomplete for you.

A hand-me-down emotion,
dredged far below the surface—
only to surface below ice formed lips.
Leaving a talent mute to the clatter
a chirping till the night arrives.
Next to be counted sane.

Pretended value to a Big Brother,
who stares past the effort—
remembering a series of digits.
Giving credit to the mindless toys
unaware of an absence of malice.
Such a small transparent world.

But we continue to emerge,
one by one into the light outside—
believing in our own individuality.
Cursing any who stifles the mind
and snuffs out the heart.
Knowing there is no value in numb-bers.

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