When everything I see makes me want to cry,
I ask myself,
Is there something wrong with the world,
Or don’t hee right things simply repel me?
I see those perfect little families,
Dads and Moms and sweet little babies,
And I wonder how they came to be,
What is the secret ingredient for being a family?
I see the lovers, so true, so in love,
And I wonder how they fight, stumble, fly,
How they spent years and years together
Falling in love and not falling apart.
I see those people who do what they love
And I wonder how on earth did they find that job
When I struggle everyday trying to find my socks
While trying to save up for a future that’ll probably suck.
I see rich kids, living the life with money
And I wonder how different my life would have been
If my family only had what they are enjoying–
Car, house, pools, travels, food, gifts, medicine.
I see success stories of people from rags
Who worked they way up to riches:
Some with hardwork, some with luck,
And I sit here with my dreams and a couple of bucks.
I see things and I wonder
how my story would one day end.
But I hope, more than anything else,
that my story –whatever it’ll be —
would be a source of strength, and not of envy.