His Past Page

I am now but a page in his book.

One he never got to understand.

All the lack,

All the resentment,

He will never know.

What he will know is that I never tried.

I never fought as hard as he did,

And I never really cared.

But he will never understand.

Never know the struggle to survive the game with yet another poorly dealt hand.

The insufficiency of not being able to balance one’s self.

The lack,

The shame of the lack

And the guilt for feeling the shame.

No he will never know.

For I never thought he would understand.