Mitochondria

Little me, little minds and little hearts, all we want is our share, all we want is to stand and stare.Why is it that people always like to poke, and make a cut a giant hole. Is it what we were meant to be, is it what we fail to see. Like all pilgrims in this wasted land, my heart bounds for that one last strand, of hope within, of labours gain. But again at last, alone i stand. Maybe we all need to compromise, to understand our minds do lie. To gain and lose, a crumb, a noose. Tied around a neck that hides, those words that only air supplies. Hung up, cut off when strangled hard, choked within not lost without. The calm that quiet brings with it, the solitude or selfish bliss. May we remember that we are dust, not gem nor ghost or immortal us! We fail to see that we may lose, by selling our souls for a measly bowl. Porridge and pie, sweetheart don't shy, for when our age is ripe and old; whats left at last is not the mould, but that within, the fight untold. Farewell, farewell, you say goodbye, may i, lay down my life most high! But what does it mean to live complete? To give my life as it's not mine.