Why? Why do we sit here and complain about homework, and the car, or our boss? Why do we whine about the taste of food, or the price of a book, or coffee? Why do we complain about the things we've been so graciously gifted with? I know a place. Where children sleep in the basements of flooded churches, and wonder every night, "Next week, will i still be alive?" "Tomorrow, will i still be okay?" I know a place where children, homeless, loveless and alone think to themselves, "I wanted to be a lawyer. I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to help people. But, will anyone else me?" I know a place where people have to walk to wherever they want to go. They're bare feet blister, and stain with the pain of the hot, parched ground, and their tears quench the dirt's lust for water. I know a place where, young children don't know how to read. Instead, they know how to steal, and hurt, and cry, and suffer. All they know how to do is suffer because, all that they've ever known, all they've ever been taught, is how to suffer.They've lost everything that they've ever known, all that they've ever had, and all that they can do is cry. If i was to gather all the tears of those, in this place i know, i could fill a sea with the sorrow shed from those dying slowly of hunger, and pain.
Why do we complain about how uncomfortable the beds we sleep on at night are? At least it's not a slab of cardboard, or the hot ground. Why do we complain about being hungry? At least we're not starving. Why do we complain about clothes that don't compliment us? At least we have the ability to wear clothes. Why do we complain about the intake of money from our jobs? At least we have paying jobs. At least we're not dying on the ground with nothing around us but the sky. Why do we complain about the education we've been blessed with? At least we're not being taught how to suffer.