Cloth
I hold the soft fabric in my handprice tag cheap
I can't afford new, good shoes to heal my aching feet
But this cute top that makes me feel good
I can.
Woven in its threads
I see a pair of hard-working, colour-stained hands
A broken back and a hungry stomach
a mother's heart, aching for her child
but work she must
unsafe
pushed to the brink by management by a corporation hungry
for my money.
Cracks in the walls she works in
tottering over her
threatening to cave in on thousands of lives
I can't afford new good shoes to heal my aching feet,
but this cheap cute top makes me cry
for its true cost.
Poetry by SecretWords

Read 850 times
Written on 2016-03-25 at 20:20
Tags Consumer  Materialism 




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