My worries are weak
Yet pipe dreams for some
I sob over leaks
they sob in wet slums
My roof is above
I’m full when I feed
They don’t eat enough
I’m stuffed as they bleed
Their bullets bone break
They beg for their meals
Their hunger won’t sate
Their fates, soon sealed
Still, I dare complain
While warm, homed, and safe
While they wash blood stains
With drains that drip late
Our savour and scents
And lavish plate stacks
Their sorrow and cents
Soon spent on scraps
My fears are content
I sleep still each night
I’m scared to present
They’re scared for their life
But them I can’t free
For them I can’t fight
So I’ll sit with my peace
And keep shutting my eyes
I feel so guilty knowing how lucky I am. People are suffering so much right now while I’m living so comfortably.