I was raised with all the correct tools

resources, books, experience. 

Yet, I struggle. 

Struggle to realize I schedule my own doctor's appointments,

swipe my own card at registers,

Pay for my own gas. 

No one ever explained how hard this would be.

Just when I thought everything was going great,

Rent is due.

Where is my check?

How can I go out to eat with Pam?

Or shopping with Lisa?


This poem is about: 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741