ENVYLAND

I hear all about her feelings,
all things with which she’s dealing,
but when I need some empathy,
she snaps and lashes-out at me.
She’s touchy-feely with a ten-foot pole;
got no brains, but plenty of soul,
while not knowing what to do
with the wishes she commands
here in Envyland.

I hear him tell my jokes
and sound witty to those other folks,
taking credit and the glory
for my amusing and amazing story.
He resents he can’t do, too
what I’ve practiced all my life to do –
accomplishments come quick and easy,
and greatness, second-hand,
here in Envyland.

This is just a big small town
where people hold each other down,
always trying to hold-back
somene who has what they lack –
they feel entitled to it,
but sit around and never do it.
“Give up what makes you special.”
is all that people here demand,
here in Envyland.

We’re all sisters and brothers
with no fathers nor mothers,
and all entitled to the same
as any winner in the game,
where seldom is heard
an encouraging word,
and praise is held in escrow
’til some favor changes hands,
here in Envyland.

Everything I have is what I‘ve earned;
everything I know is what I’d learned;
everything I want is in my hand –
I’m unfit to live in Envyland.

© 2011 Steve Fitch