Why We Are Complainers

I spent my sick day

listening to slam poetry on Youtube.

I loved finding new poems

that would inspire me to write one.

When auto play began the next poem

and I read the title "Complainers"

I just though to myself,

Shit here comes the hate.

I, myself, complain a lot!

About pathetic things too

like how my hair takes over two hours to dry

or how going in to work today sucked.

And I was fine with complaining

until he told me to quit it

all because other people have it worse.

Apperciate that you are alive

and not swimming through crocodile infested water.

I'm sorry, sir

but I did not have enough money to put myself in a situation

where my bungee jump cord would snap over this water.

Maybe I have to complain about my hair

because I can't afford a blow dryer.

Maybe when I complain about work

it is because I don't trust my father alone with my family.

Maybe I complain about little things

because I don't want to talk about

the reasons behind it.

Maybe as a kid no one wanted to talk to me

and the only way to be noticed

is to mention what going wrong.

Thats all people seem to care about anyways.

Maybe I complain about waking up early

because insomnia keep me up

until the bags under my eyes have bags.

Maybe I begun to pretend that school was my biggest issue

instead of the fact that I am being bullies.

But no, homework is the most of my problems.

People are complaining

because they don't talk about

the bigger picture.

Like how coming home late

means another black eye

and maybe some more broken bones.

Like how at night 

the blankets strangle you,

depression tieing you to your bed.

Maybe we complain

because we aren't actually alive.

So next time you sir

hear your friend complain

do not tell her

"get over it"

like you did in your poem.

Because that bridge

is probably taller 

than you think.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Dear poet who complained about complainers, get over it! Wink