I enjoy when my friends
Tell me they’re stressed
About their job
Or school or family
I understand
And tell them
It’ll be okay
Things will get better
They argue
How could I know
It will get better
How could I know
What they’re going through
I tell them
I deal with more stress
In one night at work
Than they do
All month
They don’t believe me
So, I tell them
I’ve been
Puked on, pissed on
Punched in the face
Countless times
Had a homeless man
Pull a knife on me
And someone actively
Tried to run me over
With their car
Your life isn’t stressful
From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.
James Pack 