In the heartless

Empty

Expansiveness of the perctile

I find comfort

There’s another who’s

Just a statistic

And numbers are neat and clean

Numbers are sharp and lustrous

Equations have neat endings

Broken mirrors are not going

To make you look pretty

The only way to do that

Is faking it

Forward again

Because there’s no heading back

Where you’re going

Is a place far off track

My only hope is

We all stop hoping

And start doing