Isn't It A Wonder Poem by Ryan Davis

Isn't it a wonder,
how they don't want to see
the good in you,
the hard grind you produce
every waking hour,
the potential
you have to offer.
Whatever goodwill possessed
is snubbed at every waking hour.
For all of your efforts,
they keep your eyes closed,
as if they are taboos
too frightening to believe.
And like moths to a flame,
they are too busy being drawn,
to every one of your wrongs
made or possessed.
They are entertained
to your tears,
that flows like water,
but burn like spark-infused gasoline.
Appreciation and respect
are few are far between,
and every frustration,
every time you shiver,
each time you cringe,
there always seem to be
some kind of anticipation
on the horizon.
Isn't it any wonder,
judged by the anguish
you're feeling right about now.