You Already Know What This is About

"Don't be sad because it's rigged,
be happy because you can win."
That's what he told me,
back when he told me things.
Learn the rules, one by one.
See what a million centuries of progress has made.

It's contagious, they say,
and there's no one who can stop it spreading.
They slip it in your drink,
all on the sly.
Or else they slip it into the way
you pay to keep it out of your drink.

It doesn't hurt. Not after a while, at least.
You'll hardly notice it after a while.
Some say you learn to love the way it hurts.
Some say it's fear that keeps you holding on.
(Do you want to know what I think?
No, you don't want to know what I think.)

You're probably getting the wrong idea.
I'm probably not expressing it very well.
Because it's not what you're thinking. Not entirely.
That's part of it, of course. What you're thinking is part of it.
How could it not be?
But it penetrates deeper than that, doesn't it?

The true horror is that even the best of us wants it.
Even the best of us wants to give in to it.
It talks so sweetly, so kindly sometimes,
and promises such blissful dreams.
The real struggle of fighting it
is the struggle to want to keep fighting it.

Because it's a choice at first.
It's only later that it becomes a compulsion.
It only takes the willing,
and it makes good on its promises.
The horror of it
is that it makes good on its promises.

"Don't be sad because it's rigged,
be happy because you can win."
Tell that to a starving child
and smile.
Smile as you hand her a loaf of bread
and shudder if you touch her hand by accident.

"Don't be sad because it's rigged,
be happy because you can win."
When the lights go out,
every woman is the same woman.
(Do you want to know what I think?
No, you don't want to know what I think.)

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(Photo credit: "Photomarathon1" from Joyce Kaes on flickr)