what the poet needs

People are hypnotized.
They think where we are is extremely important.
Dare I say, no, it is not!
Where we are is not the matter,
It is kind of simulacrum.
The only matter is what we are.
Then let me ask myself a question.
What am I?
Oh, I am scavenger!
The things people dumped are the matters to me.
Desperation, Grief, Absolute Loneliness, and what not.
I need them to be what I am.