Hurt The Shooting Star Poem by Paula TH

Hurt by you, all of you, don't need you.
Doing everything within my power to survive on my own,
find the energy to be able to take a shower.
Hurt all day, hurt all night.
Don't know how much longer I can fight this fight.
Some people get the card in the stack that gives them a heart attack.
Some people get the card that makes them a loner,
some get the card where they are not even dead yet after a car accident and they start pulling your body apart while you are still alive because you wanted to be a donor.
I have a card that took my spine apart and my hands and wrist....while someone else is out there dancing and doing the twist.
People in pain do not get any type of gain, there is never a good day, do you get what I am saying?
I would like everyone just for a week to walk in my shoes so you can see how good you have life and stop singing your blues.
Don't get me wrong I know others cards were dealt to be much worse than mine, some of the cards dealt sent them to the point of dying.
Family and friends have my ashes from creamation already and I ain't dead yet, so just don't take five minutes to call to see how I am doing, because I don't answer the phone anyway.
Don't answer it when adults have games that they want to play.
Don't come to my funeral and don't be trying to get your hands on my house because It will be donated to an animal shelter, because you are all a louse. No, not leaving you a thing since you added to my pain.
Just look back on your visits to me and that is where you get your gain. I am not happy with the way everyone is so stuck on having their me me me crisis. I will leave my estate to the one who is the nicest. It is animals, loyal, loving and they don't talk back.
Through my phone number away, you are all out of wack.
Pretending to be a friend so you can get something in the end.
You should be ashamed of yourselves, how material you all are.
I will die and I will hang in the sky and I will be the shooting star.