You know who your friends are in times like these
Most people will kick sand, dust in your face
If you're on the ground, though you try to please
Them while you're there, in that sad dusty place
Like walking by some unlucky homeless
While maintaining the pose that they still care
They look to themselves, conserve resources
Abandon you with a smile, they don't share
Or console, empathise, don't want to wear
Your dusty clothes, want to be a princess
And all that entails in life's greedy race
They ration kindness, know life isn't fair
But as long as they're not down, your disease
Is quarantined. Heal thyself, say the nice
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