you just
sit in your hell
thinking,
pondering the idea
of others happiness
trying to find a way
to feed off of theirs
their rightful sunshine
it's not like
you can array it from
yourself
you weren't born with
such talents
and you wonder
and you cry
cry as usual
like the routine
in which
you were first grown with
and you kind of wish
you really wish
things,
anything, really
got better in this difficult time