Bare feet on the cracked pavement,Same cracked by polished leather shoes,Dumpsters overflowing with too much food,A block away a pantry stands  The poor wait with empty hands, Waiting for a chance that life demands,Sleeping in the bottom of the car worn and cold,Watching the rich discard what they can’t hold The locked library doors,Open to some but not all,A place of knowledge, Yet not always shared  Burdened with books piled high,There's never too much for them to buy,They complain of choices far and wide,The rich take pride in what they hide  Having just one book to hold tight, Hoping to make it through the night, They dream of more than what they see,The poor survive just trying to be  Generational wealth, a chain unbroken,Passed down by time leaving some chosen,For others the chain remains unspoken,A quiet divide, opportunities stolen Not everyone starts the same, its true,So we keep in mind what others do,To level the playing field for equal fight,Acknowledge our privilege and make it right