You are not more special than the rest.
Oh, you are special; don't think otherwise,
But not more special. No, you must excise
The part of you that thinks you are the best
So far as that belief might be expressed
Through only caring when your body dies
And not when others do. That thought lies.
We are all special. Death, then, is a test:
Whose life did you believe in? Whose, dismissed?
And only care about the folks like you
Or who did what you wanted them to do?
Or did you know that people who exist
Are special, every one. Yes, that one too.
Not yours to wish undone or devalue.
