There are kids.
More innocent than me.
They are dying.
I still have the dying pain inside me.
I know that they have it worse than me.
They do not have anything.
I have a family.
I have a home.
I am educated.
Sometimes I can not give them my compassion.
I am so selfish.
I think of myself.
What am I worrying about?
About what will happen next at school.
About when I will get yelled at again.
About how I will get through another day.
What are they worrying about?
About how they are going to get something to eat.
About how long they have before they are going to die.
About how long they have before their world will end.
I sit here.
I have miniscule worries.
They have collosial ones.
Why was I given this curse of selfishness.
I never asked to be like this.
I never asked to be sad.
I never asked.
But neither did they.
I am such a selfish person.