I see you and all your friends
just a few tables away.
You all have so much, so much,
and yet I hear you say:
"So and so has got this thing,
and so they have more you see.
They have all these things I don't,
and why not me?"
Then you turn away and huff,
give off a moan and groan;
then your fingers set to work,
complaining on your new iphone.
You are already taken care of,
you have so much you see;
why do you insist on asking
that question of "why not me?"

You and your friends have got it good,
while I sit here alone.
You have company, possessions,
the 'good life' throne.
You pick and poke, and make great fun
of us who go without.
The sad thing is, you still haven't learned
what life is all about.

A few years pass,
the 'populars' move away.
You don't yet know how to live on your own,
and you are in need of some aid.
Destitute, heartbroken, your life in shambles.
It seems like you could really use some care.
You see others with their lives in line while you learn hard facts,
"why not me?" you ask in despair.

"Why isn't it me who was taught this young,
who really learned it through and through?
Why wasn't it me who learned,
Just what, exactly, I must do?"
You stand with a sign
'Anything helps, God Bless'
You get a buck or two, here and there...
most days even less.

I see you there on the corner,
asking for anything we can give,
but all I can seem to remember,
are the times you made it hard for me to live.
I could give you what you need,
make your burden light,
but oh, it's so, so easy
to despise you out of spite.

Then a light stirs up inside me,
tempered by those dark days.
As you ask "who will help?"
It swells, and seems to say

Why not me?