LIFE IS NOT FAIR

	She walks down the street the cold blowing her hair against her face.  She hates 
that annoying dark hair for it does not let her see where she's going, to see the oreo 
cookie cream- like snow which helps her find her way home.  And she is walking there 
at that spot and that time while you, in your car, pass her by. 

	What a picture, you think in your car.  The mittens with holes in them, the dirty 
jeans, and the slush covered boots.  Then to conform your theory you see the jacket 
with a rip in the back. You think, is she poor?  But no she is not, this you do not know.  
Then you drive closer and you turn your face away, because you don't want to see the 
pain in her life.  The pain of facing a new day. 

	But no one knows that pain for she holds it inside.  She's used to it, you know?
  The pain of not being free.  For, she never complains and she does as she's told.  But 
does she want to act that way inside?  No.  Because it's a learned habit, something that 
can never be broken and it has left her alone.  Alone.  What a word.  What actually 
does it describe?  Not the painful emptiness inside.  The black hole that she's dwelling 
further and further in, and even she cannot escape it.  Kind of like a planet that can't 
escape a black hole.  She is a planet, you know, she feels as though she is in her own
 world and no one understands.

	For once she wants to rebel against the crowd without any disapproval, free to 
do as she cares and pleases.  And even when she does as she's told by her peers, no 
one talks to her.  It's depressing, do you not agree?  Because they  don't care for her 
anymore as long as she does as they expect,  all but her family and friends.  She's like 
the toothpaste in your sink, used everyday but not once appreciated for what it does.

	And when they don't want her anymore she is thrown out or they move away 
from her, like she's a skunk in the garden.  They all repel her politely, but she 
still notices.  It's sad, so sad to be caught in that predicament.  She's a lower life form 
maybe an ant or even a fly.  She much rather be that after she dies because at least it 
has a short life,  and not as much pain or strife.  And oh, how pain hurts.

	 Once when she was little and just moved here from another state, she had a 
terrible time adjusting.  Some classmates only talked to her when they had no one to 
talk with.  And when they had someone to talk to, they left her all alone.  It's sad, what 
a life to live. 

	And now you weep as you pass her by. For this pain is more unimaginable than 
harsh reality.  But it's true, because I am she and she is me.  And that's life...not fair. 
 That's all I will say and now... I must weep. 

copyright Anita