Sartre said, “hell is other people”

And I know I’ve had days when

Pounding my fists at the sky, I screamed

Hell yes! They certainly are

Misanthropic self-pity is easy

When things don’t go your way

I’ve been there a time or two

Haven’t you

But people are really hell – in the worst way

When you need them so much

Desperate for love

Dependent

You’re left all alone

Fending for yourself

Unprepared, unskilled, and really not ready

Taking a drag off their cigarette, they smirk as you flounder

Of course, that’s not everyone – it’s just one or two

They cut you so deep

It’s hard to know what to do

Pick-up, dust-off, move on to the next

Most people, my friend,

Are as wounded as you

They’re desperate and dependent

And searching for you