I travel an over-trod path,
Bringing to awareness the plight of the less fortunate.
My voice is the silent one
Among the rush of the cacophonous.
Where others shout;
I look on with seeming indifference,
And pour out muffled screams on my bed.
Quite an advocate, I am,
For the miniature things in life.
Picking up the peel of the banana I did not eat;
So you don't slip on it.
Reuse that plastic bag over and over again,
Trying not to print anything, if I can get away with it,
Leave my left-overs for a stray cat or dog,
Correct a child who speaks out of turn.
An advocate, I am
For the minuscule.
I pick my battles,
I fight them.