Disenfranchised

Getting through this day,

just like yesterday.

Your issues aren’t mine,

mine are more now-ish, more personal.

Your platitudes fall short of motivation,

I am moved by the things wrenching my gut.

Your look of confidence, I can’t afford it.

You can’t either, but you don’t know.

Three jobs, no job, no respect.

The pundits recommend RRSP, TFSA.

I recommend food, rent, a coffee, maybe a smoke,

laughing, talking in front of Timmy’s on Thames.

Sure your cause is significant,

sure I understand but,

my Kids, my wife,  

my partially severed social connections, 

baggage left over from childhood,

disrupts sympathy for you.

Then, of course, you judge,

my age, my clothes,

my colour, my gender,

my asymmetrical face.

It’s not your intent but....

I am a we, a big we,
you need to know.
Time changes things,

my issues will become ‘the issues’.

You think I am asleep?

Look closer.