Help

Asking for help
Wasn't my thing
Not because I have a towering ego
Or a maniacal cowardness

Even thinking about it
Tasted bitter in my mouth
Felt like thorns
Surrounding my tongue.

Like acid rain
Hissing when it
touched my skin.
then leaving burnt marks all over.

In my youthful days,
Only the privileged
Can go asking for help
And sadly, I ain't one

And now, I can ask help
Yet I choose not to.
I can't imagine myself
Burdening people with mine.