Selfish, and spoiled, you can't seem to stop the chatter,
Can't take a second to bow your head in silence and consider what things really matter,
Your head is filled with the new technology, and the latest fashion,
Rumors, and drama is your only real passion.
You paint your face every morning and plan out who will be your next victim,
Check your split ends, time for a trim.
You look through the thousands of dollars your parent's paycheck have invested in keeping you 'cool.'
Just a bunch of idiotic, absent people using money as the prefered parenting tool.
So you deciede what outfit will appeal to those kids who fancy you so, aim to impress.
Finally you decide to wear that new little dress,
Best wear it while it's style is still in,
To waste such money would be a sin.
Because by the time it has been woren once or twice the season has long since changed,
And your closet is frequently being rearranged.
No attachment to those fabrics occupying hangers shoved into the back,
But the knowledge of the stories you seemingly lack.
Grab the shirt off the closet floor, feel the silk between your fingers.
Now close your eyes, let me paint you the picture so tragic it lingers.
The children in India, the children still full of youth, have the blisters to show for that shirt,
The hours spent in a factory filled with silent compliance, surrounded with filth and dirt.
Dust fills their lungs with every single breath,
With burns and cuts so bad they can be credited for their death.
So please, just for a moment, think about everything your blessed with.