No, surely I have no problems.
I am no beggar, I do not starve;
I am no criminal, nor would I need to be;
I am no vagrant, and look not for support.
Yes, it could be worse.
No, surely my problems mean nothing.
I could be ailing of disease,
I could be beyond repair,
I could be on the brink of destruction.
Yes, it could be worse.
No, surely there's always someone
more worse off than I,
and I could not compare;
shame on me for complaining.
Yes, it could be worse.
No, surely I want for nothing
and there are those in the world
who would kill for all that I have,
who hurt for the most basic of needs.
Yes, it could be worse.
No, surely I am not pained
for I am living a life of leisure
plenty,
and wealth.
Yes, it could be worse.
...
No, no, no.
I do have problems,
and I am not perfect.
I may not be the worst,
as there will always be worse,
but that should not lessen me.
The existence of others
should not bring my value,
my own existence,
down beyond comparison,
regardless of my privilege.
I may not suffer as others suffer,
and I may not know fear as others do;
but this life of mine,
it is all I have ever known.
Surely that-
-surely that is enough?
YOU ARE READING
Imagination
Poetryim·ag·i·na·tion /iˌmajəˈnāSH(ə)n/ noun the faculty or action of forming new ideas, or images or concepts of external objects not present to the senses. Otherwise known as "Musings of the Balladeer." This is an anthology of poetry I've written...
