Health is Wealth Unless You’re Wealthy (Then You Might Be Cured)

(I'm being cheeky. But... well, just read it)

Watch this first, then scroll to the bottom if you want the dorky poem I wrote you in print.

THANK YOU to those helping this independent memoirist continue to work by upgrading to paid (which also helps my goal of gifting this every-weekday-writing-world to anyone who asks for a reading scholarship, no questions asked)

Thank you Word Nerds!

“Will the coffee help?” You say. You wouldn’t even know…

Because you question price and cost as if that’d stop the flow

Of costs, that happen, out the door… Every time I step.

X-rays, CTs, scans, again; “Just-a-little to the left?”

Would that latte really help? Would it fix my bank?

Or do we say it when we feel our mind’s just going blank?

“How can we help?” We think in kind, not ever knowing when,

How it’s worse to stay alive than pay what’s ‘round the bend.

This poem sucks, I get it, really, I’m writing this in pain,

But I didn’t have a post within me (so read it just the same?)

The point here is, that even IF, you think you have the figure.

Health is wealth unless you’re wealthy (then you might be cured).

I get it… It’s no one’s fault… “Just skip your daily bean.”

(But when you boil it down I’m feeling two hot kinds of steam.)

You know the phrase… You know it well… “It is a full time job.”

But only those who don’t need two can truly rap that slog.

Here’s two weeks of what it costs - docs, meds, painful drives…

To which, we ask, both you and I: “What’s keeping me alive?”

If you can’t start your weekday by becoming a monthly subscriber, simply share share share to help keep this work going for free