You love to judge because you do not know,
What it’s really like on the floor,
To be poor or ill or suffer a low blow,
For the world to knock you more and more.
And in the struggle,
All people hear….
And how poverty is your own fault.
How you should or ought to,
Or why couldn’t or shouldn’t you have,
Tried better or harder,
Or fixed it?
Because you don’t understand being on the floor.
You don’t understand those stepping over you, tutting ‘no, no’.
Saying ‘You did this to yourself so you deserve no help’,
Even though you do not understand you will still judge.
Because you’re comfortable and safe and so worthy of more.
You were born wealthy or lucky but worked hard so they mustn’t have.
So you will judge them and blame them without ever knowing so.
How it feels down on the cold, hard floor,
Blamed and hated.
Copyright (C) Teri Montague / bardicblogger 2018. All Rights Reserved.