Poem: My Best

I am of the Upper, Lower Class.
Having the coveted
Federal Disability Money.
Living in the dreamed of
section 8 funded
single room occupancy.
I have serious
Physical
and Mental
Disabilities.
Yet not so "serious" as say,
Cancer,
or AIDS.
So though I am,
Mortally Ill,
I do not get the excuse
of something "fatal."
The Power of
"Real Sickness."
Yes, I'm viewed as disabled,
but "not as disabled as..."

Stuck in the Middle.

I am of the Upper, Lowest Class.
Poor,
but not the poorest.
Disabled,
but not the most so.
Downtrodden yes,
but one who can
"do _something_ for themselves,
if they really wanted to."

A pretend sickness?
Fuck You.

I do my best.