A stolen morsel more precious than gold,
A stolen shirt to keep out the cold,
There is no price to hunger,
There is no price to shelter,
There is no price to kindness,
There is no price to generosity,
And there is no price to compassion,
When we feel each others pain and struggle.

The struggle to survive the harsh conditions that life holds,
The struggle to be able to acquire the necessities for everyday living,
Which without,
One cannot live to fulfill its heart desires.
And this makes us secum to rootless phenomenons.
Which leads to deranging results.

It makes one selfish to the extreme,
And diminishes the uniqueness of humanity.
Making the existence of it,
A pointless one.
We trade our conscience and compassion to greed and selfishness.
We no longer cry for the homeless,
Nor pity on the needy.

We no longer crave to be affectionate and honest.
We hang onto wrong motives,
Which in the end,
Makes us an enemy to our own selves.

© Henrietta Otu