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Working Class
We are of the same age
But you are much older than I.
Your chains have left marks
Your face is stained by labour
Trying to support a family by caring for another
Often beaten, underpaid, malnourished
Yet still you obey your mistress,
You walk two paces behind.
Your life has barely begun
And already it is over
There is no future, no light at the end
Your path leads no where and it is locked in stone
I am humbled
I am blessed
The greatest gift is to be able to chose your future
To have choice
This is a liberty you have forsaken
Nineteen and you are already passed your prime
Living life as a slave.
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The Wish
Wouldn’t it be perfect
If this sadness went away
And not smack me on the face
And if all my feelings I could convey?
Wouldn’t it be splendid
To live life from day to day
And not have to wrorry
If I’ll smile or feel “that” way?
A year ago and now today
The person is not the same
One used to laugh at life
Not succumb to it’s cruel game
It’s not as if I chose this path
Because I try to fight my will
I choose to stand instead of crumble
But this takes an unlearned skill.
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