Memento Mori

We, the outcasts.
The tattooed, the painters, the writers, the live lifers,
the drinkers, the smokers, the runaways, the stalkers.
The homeless, the shameless,
the lovers, the bruisers, the substance abusers.
All fade as one.

We, the fit-ins.
The lawyers, the doctors, the soldiers, the tailors
the thinkers, the drivers, the cops, the accountants
The well paid, the got-laid,
the brokers, the stock holders, the multiple car owners
All melt into one.

We, the saints.
The stars, the athletic patrons, the missing on milk cartons,
the actors, the rebelious scoundrels, the never born, the unknown fire starters.
The politicians, the popes, the merchants of hopes,
the tv icons, the conquering characters, the oblivious martyrs
All resurrect as one.

We the people.
The black in the blue, the white in the ques
The yellow in the streets. The red on the skids.
The young and the old, the weak and the strong.
All die alone.