Running a race I'll never win

I'm running a race I just can't win
That's how I always feel.
Early mornings rising for work
to a job that will never pay
anywhere near enough
to feel like I am winning
this damn race.
I wish I was you.

weekdays, weekends, all the same
the kids can always wait,
at least until I get ahead
and start to win this race.
I envy you.

Braindead mornings, groggy nights
spent obtaining college diplomas
partly for fulfilment, and honorable motives
but mostly due, I must confess
to an insatiable hunger
for winning this damn race.
I could yet be you.

A bigger house, A newer car
more clothes to strut around
I'm now a blonde, have you not heard
the news must get around.
I'm still behind, you drew ahead
while I was catching up.
I'll work more hours, go back to school
I'll try to lose more weight
I'll give my all, try night and day
to pull ahead in this damn race.
I hate you all.

A trip downtown, a shoppping spree
should do the trick for me.
I'll find something, I am sure, to help feel good about me.
On the patio, outside the bank, a young girl sits alone,
her tattered clothes, her vacant stare
she seems to have no home.
she plays guitar, she's not too bad
I notice as I pass.

My daughter plays guitar, I am thinking absently, when, in a rare unselfish gesture , I toss a loonie into her open guitar case.
She looks up, smiles, and says, "Bless you" as I walk on,
and I am left stunned, wondering what on earth I had done
to be blessed by someone as good as this
in spite of the odds that are stacked against her
in this damn race.
I'm sorry.