The world is a bad place with few good things in it. At least, that’s what we are told as children. That mankind is anything but kind – bringing destruction to anything we touch. Do you want to destroy me? 

     Does my suffering please you because your mother only has one child, and it isn’t you? Rent is due next week, but chances are up that the lucky slot has a spot for the winning. Blame the billboards, how dare they lay false hope, go sleep in the car. The children have sports overlapping. The children. Existing, exhausting, a daily commute to the end of the bridge where the water beneath is so murky they’d never find you.

     Assume the weight on your shoulders fits the man bouncing his leg on the bench. Damn transients always want something but won’t take what you offer. Your problem, my problem. Yell a bit louder, the woman three people behind isn’t convinced that you’ve lived up to your family’s expectations. Do you wear the pants or just own a pair? I’d like to check out with my own now.
 
     Your flaws glow don’t you know, they are the walls beneath which your shadows grow darker, and I know how horrible you are. But I shall not hate because not all who act are. I will be kind and loving, sensitive too, because being hateful and hard is for the weak. And I will not be like you.