Author's Note: This poem is meant to be from the point of view of David from the book a child called it.
Open doors and opportunities
Open doors and opportunities
Too bad none of them are meant for me.
Sometimes life just seems to crumble
"Life's not fair," My mother mumbles
Food and respect that all I want now
Instead I just wipe the sweat from my brow
I make mistakes and so does mother
The only difference is I get punished.
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