Hands spun on a dot
Reflecting a scene before
The peanut butter sandwich inside
Or its crumbs on the floor
The wise-crack comment
That no one seems to get ever
The sheer weight of stupidity
In a mass of clever
This is as I am
I am truly just one person
I wake up in the morning
To make important decisions
I rest late in the day
Just to make it through to night
I am an average thinker
On the pathway of life
Am I the measure of a clock that hangs on the wall?
Am I a past person, moments ago, the one they recall?
