Someone needs to be rich and someone needs to be poor.
An equal existence would mean it could never be improved upon.
What ever you had, you would have.
Nothing more.
Nothing to be gained.
Always the same.
No dream would ever be accomplished.
No wish would ever come true.
Destiny's askew.
Before we lash out at the rich so easily.
We must realize how they got their.
Was it a inheritance?
Was it built from scratch?
Was it an idea in which one hatched?
Was a gamble in which they finally won?
Was it stolen?
Was it gained by destroying others?
Count the ways to the great accomplishments.
Still theirs as many good as bad.
And to categorize all as the same.
Is a prejudice I just can not approve of.
I'm poor, but I'm glad to have that opportunity to become rich.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem