Maria Grist's . . .
.   . . ..(other space) poems

 

 
 

self-indictment

 


It isn't my place to be happy.
My place is to wash, and to sweep, and to peel
potatoes for those who live lives that are real.
One-woman-support-system, hello, that's me,
it isn't my place to be happy.

It's sinful to ever be selfish.
It doesn't feel right to have fun in the night,
I'm here to please others, not think of myself,
so please put that spotlight back up on its shelf,
and let me slink into the shadows.

I envy those people out there,
just look at them laugh, as they let down their hair,
a pity I'm different, for me it's taboo,
'cause while there's still ironing and dusting to do,
it isn't my place to be happy.

 

(© 1996-2008 Maria L. Grist)

 


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