A few streets down
away from this perfected outer shell of blissful indulgence that we have created
a city of
I am from a city of diversity—but here, separation turns into segregation. Racism.
Our indulgences—selfish—snatches from the weak and creates an era of
poverty. An era of the big.
Downtown beggers dancing for pennies. Cardboard signs
begging for money, children
on the corner, every corner—starved and frail.
Mommy, I'm hungry.
Mommy, it's cold.
Mommy has no food.
Mommy stopped listening,
she can't hear you.
Look the other way while the rest of the city is
Cold and alone, we walk.
Nice suits, clean shoes, wallets full,
disgust and pity for those who beg at our feet,
but never a helping hand.
Turn your head the other way when you see them,
only to wish someone will look at you
when you have
lost it, lost it all.
I come from a city where you
are your own.