I complain or feel sorry for myself.
When we each carry a different story, an additional pain that we either hide or show to the world.
Who are we to beg for things that others are struggling to get on their own.
But you always with your hand out asking for more as if he is your bank.
As if she didn’t have to work hard at a job she didn’t love just to make a difference in her life.
As if he did escape what little he had to make something of himself.
His fault was that he worked hard and missed out on things to be able to pay the bills.
Or that she instead save and live a little bit, not go out all the time.
Now she lives in a world where less time out means she has less chance of getting COVID-19.
But still, the risk of having it all is out there, and yet she is always judged, but for what now?
And even though she knows they all want to know.
There are things she won’t share, and so there are things she won’t complain about either.
So happy she seems but is that all of her, you see.
Written By: Deirdre Stokes
Copyrighted ©️ 2021 By Deirdre Stokes