They smile at me
wide expanses of scattered teeth
grins too large for their hungry faces
holding on by a thread
yet, content.
Not troubled by their everyday struggle
kindness exploding from every pore on their frail bodies
but, why?
Lightened hair on dark skin
hinting malnourishment
calloused hands and fading scars
diligent and determined, while
living in absolute poverty
when tomorrow isn't guaranteed
nothing is.
Everyone complains:
stress, anger, suicide.
Too many problems, too much
but why is it us
who hurl our precious protests at a preoccupied world?
When the happiest-
who have nothing-
don't mutter one.

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