A Poem by the Modern Self-entitled

October 19, 2018 4 By Geraldine Choo

We live in
celestial cities,
fast cars,
fine dining,
banging our gold spoons on
our gold plates.

We feast on privileges,
posting photo after photo of
our platter,
high on likes
fast and furious as Jaguars.

Our faces are smeared,
our bellies swell,
yet our buffet has no end
(was there even a beginning?)
you’d think we’ll share it with you –

Sure.

We empty our plates;
chunks of meat
fall from our thrones
into your laps.
You lap them up
like starving dogs
eternally grateful –

Little do you know that

we sense
but
do not feel.