Poseur

Photo from flickr.com

whose poverty did you steal
when you gave me that bullshit
of growing up hungry in tenement squalor
don’t you know that I lived there
had friends in those railroad car cold-water flats
with their cold-handed slumlords
I know you and knew you
you had all that middle-class family and founding
could give in the way of a kill-for advantage
but you in rebellion or obdurate pique
just threw it away with both careless hands
your parents beside themselves year after year
never grasping the why of you
turning your back on their ethics
their faith and depression-forged values
you with your better-than-their-ideas
modernly unbound by duty beyond your own skin

tell me why are you now that you’ve lost
every challenge in life trolling sympathy
desperate to find a soft-hearted kind hand
playing victimhood you never earned
never learning the only bad actor
who crushed you was you
so please spare me the whining
I give my compassion in buckets to those
for whom failure was never their choice
those who suffered exogenous forces
and not their own misguided hand
it is their plight you’ve stolen
and with it my cold retribution

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