What is my privilege ?
What worth do I carry?
Not born with a silver spoon;
However in semi-private room of private hospital.
Slept on a feathered bed ,
A roof over my head always there,
Saying no to food was a sin towards God,
But not crime against life on the ground.
Hellish travesty existed in form of petty homework,
While there was a friend working in cinders,
Blessed she felt to have work and have roof over head,
living in production factory of her kin,
Another child was weighed on scale of care and labour.