I’ve never understood bitter people
who purse their lips, shut their eyes,
and spit, as if they’re tasting rotten fruit.

I feel they aren’t trying hard enough,
and never learned to stop whining.
They never had to work hard,

never had to sit for months or years
with sick, defenseless children,
or watched a loved one die in a lonely place.

How can they expect everything
on this whole forsaken turning planet
to turn out well, just for them?

But now, I’m bitter too.
And I’m bitter that I’m so bitter,
and I’m bitter that I became bitter so late.

I feel so bitter today
that my bitterness has chased
their bitterness away.