Upon examining measure, publishers render poets adawe

just a trailer park raised disabled late bloomer to lower middle class
not deemed prepared by the publishers as deserving of a creative career
so whereas in one country I would be qualified for doctor assisted suicide
in another I must work 50 hours a week just to get by, just to live
whereas in Canada I would qualify for doctor aided death, ending suffering,
I do not come close to passing the measurements of a disability check in the U.S.
thank you, Earth, thank you, humanity, for this life without a meaningful task
the landlords over that career-center that blocks me out, because of my history
with poverty and disability, deeming me as undeserving, unremarkable, uncreative,
ungrateful, unlovable, not one a create reading audience can understand, or empathize

perhaps you were right all along