A Poem: Offer

I’ve a lot to offer,
Just not the right


It seems we are searching for our nitch. A place where we are both comfortable and helpful. I have had these feelings in my life, but they didn’t last for years. Just months. Because, as a child, I felt that killing myself would be the only helpful thing I could do.

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I’ve got a lot of problem talk to offer

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One take on this is that I have found I can’t get much of a new job unless I have a certificate of some sort. Some sort of specialty.
I have been working data entry for 16 years.

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