The Sickening, Cunning Words

 Sometimes people come to ask questions, not so they can find a way to help you.

Sometimes, they ask those questions so they can talk about you at the dinner table without thinking about the evenings you've spent in hunger all along,

Or the days you couldn't see the sky for you've been crying too much, or the nights you slept in tears for the worry gets too heavy to settle,

Or those times you forced yourself to leave a place for the fear of being a burden,

Or the dawns you had to lie awake in bed and look around the room to ask yourself the question, "How much longer can I afford to pay for it?"

They care not if you're poor, homeless, orphan, struggling, or dying.

All that matters to them is to have you as an open menu to choose topics from to talk about at the dinner table when having a feast to celebrate your failing chapters,

While you feel too guilty to eat the remaining rotting food on the table.

And at the end of the day, if anything shall happen, may it be good or bad...

They would always be there to claim their credits by saying, "He's my son. He's my brother. He's my friend. I helped him (years ago). I gave him his stage name. I was his mother's friend."

But will they be doing anything to live up to those claims as parents, siblings, or friends?

Wallahualam.