Lucky

He is being told that he is lucky,
Lucky to be alive, lucky to be healthy,
Lucky to have a job, lucky to have friends,
Lucky to have money in case he needs meds,
Lucky to have a roof over his head –
So he is also lucky to be able to see red,
Also lucky to have both his legs
And the full usage of his ten fingers.
He's lucky not to see the leper that begs
Or the maimed that slowly dying lingers.
He is also lucky his ex doesn't kick him out
Or that his family doesn't blame him for the breakup.
He is lucky to be able to pout
Or in the event of tea to have a saucer and cup.
He is lucky that no one dismantled the sun,
Lucky that the world doesn't spin the other way
Or he'd have to live again the pain at a slow run,
And go through the irrelevant – for some – dismay.
He is a lucky little bastard,
Yeah, that's what he thinks he is,
If he doesn't turn drunkard
Or if he can find peace.