Lost Right to Dream

As I walked through the street today
I noticed a million and one thing:
A kid at the store crying with dismay
As if he had just lost a precious wing,
A tantrum over a candy he couldn’t have.
Then, I wondered away to another place,
Where things have a different face.
Crying happens over a plate of food,
And kid’s toys are their invention;
Kids know there’s no place to elude,
And poverty is that place’s convention.
They simply lack the right to dream.
They know what the future upholds,
They don’t sit to watch as it unfolds;
They’re out trying to make a dime
For school ends right at sixth grade,
Dreaming is a joke, a waste of time.
Any hopes in the hours of labor fade.
They are the misfortunate wingless birds.
To hold their strength they do not cry,
As dawn awaits birds that cannot fly.

Copyright © 2009

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About B. Meza

Writing is liberating.
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