Its hardly a secret. I have done more for others Than has ever been done for me. While I volunteered to do your deeds, You sat back in wait, Offering shallow 'thank you's When I returned. A job well done, I guess.
You complain about A harsh life, Filled with trouble, Filled with strife, While sitting still Fully tended by me.
Never do you hear me Moan or whine. My poems have That light to shine.
I need not say a word.
My smiles are all fake, Caused by the trickery Of these miserable women. They give me momentary appreciation For a lifetime of service...