Ignorance is this:

What a luxury it is
To write poems like this

Head rested
Against pillow
Whilst **** in the world persists

Kids shot on their streets
Men and women bleed
Defeated, unshielded
Beaten and beat

Is this a way for humans
to be
Treated or treat?

Though I make no claim
Or just complain
The idea to change
Lies with in our brains

Not in our hearts
Where compassion starts

Our minds are the true philosophy
To conquer our stupidity

Do untoward others
Or don’t do at all

And what a luxury it is
To right poems like this...