I'm Really Not Depressed

My poetry tends to be a bit dark, but I'm really not depressed. I've been reading "The Beauty of the Husband" lately.

It's About Us

Through the years she has battled in the war of words,
Fighting the stigma of
Selfishness
"It's all about you"
Spoiled rotten.

Is selfishness fitting her schedule around others,
planning her day so that he doesn't (or since he won't),
keeping her dreams in her heart?
Is it all about her when she cooks his dinner,
washes his clothes,
carries his child?
Is she spoiled rotten by the gifts he never buys,
the compliments he never gives,
the conversation he never shares?

Maybe she will exercise her selfish rights by sleeping late.
Maybe she will exercise on his time.
Maybe she will find the things she needs elsewhere.

In her mind she wins the battles.
In her heart she loses the war.