A letter, a diss

Don’t pity those whose backs you stab, but pity yourself for being one step, two steps, three steps behind.

Don’t pity those whose feet you drag, but pity yourself for being one flight, two flights, three flights below.

Don’t pity those whose flaws you spread, but pity yourself for not recognizing your own.

Don’t pity those whose dirty secrets you spill, but pity yourself for having no story of yours to tell.

A life of bore, a heart that’s empty, a scowl of constant jealousy — how sad must your life be.

Don’t pity me, don’t pity them, but pity yourself.

For you always gawk on others and pry, how sad must you be.

Not dropping names. But if you feel this is for you, then maybe it is.

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