a collection of old and new poems

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Privilege

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  • 2 minutes read
  • Jun 06, 2019

I cannot believe some people think this way.

I am filled with rage and anger for the type of people we have become. Putting ourselves before the needy, acting as if nothing is our problem.

We do not choose to whom we are born from, many wish this was the case. The children who fear for their lives each day, the women forced to do the inhumane. But many sit in silence and act as if it is our right to live the way we do.

Water in an instant, people to protect us, not a lot to fear. But yet we fear those things. The occurrences so rare for us, daily for many others.

We put ourselves on a pedestal, giving ourselves a higher level of importance. Remove the clothes, hair, skin and be left with only bones. Oh, how similar we would be. No money, no status, nothing. That is how we will end up, but we act as if it is not. We act as if these things affect what happens when we die, but we will all rot the very same.

Since when are we so important to leave the needy and ignore the world’s problems? We are all living here together, but for some reason, we separate continental plates from caring about each other’s fates.

A worldwide caste system.

Who are you to judge? Who are you to use your privileges for evil? To pin each other against one another and disconnect us all. People need us. We all need us. But we turn our heads, follow the leader, and nothing is done. Innocent people suffer, but we are too scared to stand up and change it. And those fears we hold are somehow greater than those living through them.

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