A poor man stumbles over a rock as he walks the streets in search for a job. He’s in aching pain, he has a disease that’s rotting his core, his mouth is full of nerves that have been exposed. It is a horrific situation, for he could die if he doesn’t find a way to pay for the cure, but being poor is why poverty has taken its tolls. All day he walked the streets looking for a job but his pronunciation wasn’t as good as the occupation he was applying to and he didn’t get the job. He dreads to go home without finding a job because he knew you would be angry if he didn’t bring home a little cash, but there he goes.
He walks into the mansion you live in with a tear in his eye, but you’re not the kind of person to be sympathetic over this kind of situation, and you raise your voice about the bills getting paid. It doesn’t take you long until you ask his family for money but a poor man has an even poorer family. You can put on your sad face, you can cry out your eyes all you want, and you can say it’s for the cure but you don’t fool me one bit. If you love him so much you would pay for the cure yourself, it’s a small price for a life time of love, but you’re not in love, you’re in lust, and you prove it everyday. All you care about is yourself; you’re a selfish, narcissistic, egotistical bitch.
You want his family to pay but I got your cure right here; sell your new car, sell your new washer, sell your big screen TV, sell your expensive toothbrushes, sell everything! Don’t be afraid to leave your new house to live under a bridge, don’t be afraid to go from eating at restaurants to eating out of dumpsters, and don’t be afraid to give up your life to save a life you love. It’s for a cure for a poor man’s heart but you don’t deserve his heart. And that’s why you don’t have a ring around your finger because you can’t handle the for better or for worst part of a marriage. You say it’s a do or die situation but he’s still rotting inside while you sit on your porcelain throne.