By D. R. DiFrancesco

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I ran the race, but tripped and fell,

The starter’s pistol heard clear as a bell.

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They say we start out as equals its true,

Sadly the shortest of fates straws I drew.

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The field is not level, its slanted you see,

The caste at your birth influences who you will be.

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Yes this can change its not written in stone,

You’ll have to push harder and higher alone.

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Your families old money makes for a pre-made man

While I scratch and I claw doing all that I can.

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As I’m running my race I can see you ahead,

Getting farther and farther from the path that I tread.

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You claim we are the same from conception to birth,

My mother cleans houses, what’s your Daddy’s net worth.

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The systems unfair, some say evil and cruel,

Treating those of less fortune as inconvenient and worthless fools.

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Because you say this is not so does not make it true,

I work as hard if not harder than many of you do.

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Still I live paycheck to paycheck without a spare dime,

Hoping and praying someday good fortune in turn will be mine.

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I would change my condition if only time would allow,

But with work, home, and family to their pressures I must bow.

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You laugh and call us stupid behind country club doors,

We are those that wait on you, clean up after you and shine your marble floors.

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How dare you proclaim that this system is fair,

From your ivory towers, sprawling mansions, and mountain top lairs.

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Remember there are those far less fortunate than you,

Born without the golden slipper, silver spoon our betterment you subdue.

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I look forward to the day when in my shoes you must walk,

Maybe then you’ll show compassion and stifle harsh talk.

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Until then I will struggle and work ‘til I drop,

Pray the system will change and this punishment stop.

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When fairness for all is the law in this land,

Maybe then we can solve our problems walking arm in arm and hand in hand.