The Lottery Poem by Edmund V. Strolis

Huddled mass of humanity, in front of you, in front of me.
Society is too big, stained and ugly at unraveled seams
Road turns to town and to street and on to hard luck city
Somewhere lost between corn rows and private dumpsters
Somewhere good intentions fell short and so it goes.....
The neighbor is now a stranger sleeping in soiled truth
There, but for a fortunate spin of the cosmic wheel go I.
Civilization's casualties, the systemic lottery losers