I’m just another pebble on the beach

That wants to shine and stand out from the crowd.

Instead, I’m stepped upon and kicked around,

And hopes, once cherished, linger out of reach.

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Decaying driftwood, scattered on the shore,

Is wreckage from my ship of childhood dreams

That foundered in a shallow sea of green,

To splinter in my every bitter pore. 

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Dilapidated shells, like unkempt graves,

Are weather-beaten victims and the scarred

And disenfranchised debris from a herd

Too weak to dare oppose oppressive waves.

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And yet we have the power to impeach

The tyrants who conspire to implement

Privation. Tell me who they represent?

Aren’t most of us just pebbles on the beach?