A good friend will cause you pain today. She
will not see why even if you try to
explain. You will think you are going mad.
You will wish to kill someone. Try not to.
Your other children will suffer enough
without you compounding things. Suck it up.
Try to avoid awards ceremonies.
Jealousy is ugly. Schadenfreude
is also to be frowned upon. Mostly.
Church will become the worst hour of your week.
You will spend the whole time praying no one
turns around. God will appear not to care.
There are no trophies for surviving.
You will not sleep well tonight, or ever.
You would not trade places with anyone.
(a fortune-cookie poem, originally written for a prompt from Robert Lee Brewer over at Poetic Asides)