WuLf

Claiming a predator’s strength, while preaching kindness you’d never extend, you lash out at everything that you are.

Decades and dollars lost in the effort to lift you from the depth you furiously dig towards with every action, as you cry your entitlement to happiness and declare your role heroic in its dormancy.

You did so well despite occasionally being held responsible for your actions, or attacked, as you see it.

Each infraction was met with a greater reward, more ease, more money, more time, more support, until you were pampered enough to perform a fraction of what is required on a basic level, most of the time.

And then we cheer. So strong, so victorious, such a fighter.

Yet you’ve fought for nothing.

You’ve fought against the gains others handed to you, more than once.

You claimed more for yourself while you couldn’t provide for, or address, that which was in need, right in front of you.

New, better, bigger, fast, better.

As you look behind you smugly at those clinging to rungs as they fight for an inch.

You’ve been handed miles, yet act as if your shoes are worn, and mock the dust on others' ankles.