1 min read
02 May

my mother always said 

my good intentions

were doomed to


by the ignorant.

she was right.

each time i try to help,

wearing my rose-coloured glasses,

i am condemned, mocked, belittled.

since my earliest years,

i remember.

i remember the hurt and confusion.

"but i was only trying to help!"

it continues to this day.

i extend a hand.

it is slapped back.

my skin prickles each and every time.

and yet, in my sixth decade,

i see myself still

with that hand extended.

the fool that i am.