i always get the ugly cupcake.

i always get the ugly cupcake.
the smooshed one. the toddler licked one.
the broken one. the two day old stale one.
that’s the one for me.

i always get the hand-me-down shirts.
the holey one. the mystery stain one.
the ugly picture or stupid saying one.
those are always the ones that i end up with.

i always get the old car.
the breakdown daily one. the it won’t start one.
the messed up fuel gauge one. the chipped paint one.
but oh, it holds three car seats and two more people – that’s mine.

i always get the fuzzy end of the lollipop.
but really, that’s ok. and i’m no martyr.
sometimes i grumble. sometimes i gripe.
but i always try to remember, life isn’t always all about me.

i get the ugly cupcake that way no one fights over who has to have it.
i get the hand-me-down shirts that way they get the nice ones for school.
i get the old car so he can also get an old car-his is just more reliable.
i get the fuzzy end of the lollipop so that they all get the best that we can give them.

i said i’m no martyr, and really i mean it.
sometimes i want more. often i want so much better.
sometimes i think God’s not listening. often i am jealous.
i’m not perfect, merely human.

and i do have that drawer full of candy hidden away that’s just for me.

cupcake-b

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