By D. R. DiFrancesco
I ran the race, but tripped and fell,
The starter’s pistol heard clear as a bell.
They say we start out as equals its true,
Sadly the shortest of fates straws I drew.
The field is not level, its slanted you see,
The caste at your birth influences who you will be.
Yes this can change its not written in stone,
You’ll have to push harder and higher alone.
Your families old money makes for a pre-made man
While I scratch and I claw doing all that I can.
As I’m running my race I can see you ahead,
Getting farther and farther from the path that I tread.
You claim we are the same from conception to birth,
My mother cleans houses, what’s your Daddy’s net worth.
The systems unfair, some say evil and cruel,
Treating those of less fortune as inconvenient and worthless fools.
Because you say this is not so does not make it true,
I work as hard if not harder than many of you do.
Still I live paycheck to paycheck without a spare dime,
Hoping and praying someday good fortune in turn will be mine.
I would change my condition if only time would allow,
But with work, home, and family to their pressures I must bow.
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.
How dare you proclaim that this system is fair,
From your ivory towers, sprawling mansions, and mountain top lairs.
Remember there are those far less fortunate than you,
Born without the golden slipper, silver spoon our betterment you subdue.
I look forward to the day when in my shoes you must walk,
Maybe then you’ll show compassion and stifle harsh talk.
Until then I will struggle and work ‘til I drop,
Pray the system will change and this punishment stop.
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.