Beat On

A face in a crowd of hundreds, maybe thousands.
Head held high, eyes closed,
His heart beats to the rhythm of a drum.
He is an enigma.
For the masses are downcast.
Beat down by life's sorrows.
The drummer within them is silent.
Oh, to be like that young man.
Whose heart and mind are filled with glorious music.
He is not infected by life.
Instead he has beaten life's sickness.
He truly is a survivor.
He may be alone, but he is alive.
How they all wish they were him.
Still they keep up their silent march.
Stuck in life's vices.
Unable to get free.
Or unwilling to.
What will become of them....?