Privilege

Spare me of your pitiful protest
For recounting a mournful past
History is retold through the victor
Bitter taste encapsulated in flowery fragrance
It is still a bitter pill to swallow
See, you have built upon my own ruins
Had to shatter my existence in your bondage
Yet for us, ship upon ship transversing through the sea
Souls simmering in heat and submerged
Seas of tears in a sickening race
Sold as slaves in subjugation
Mount Vesuvius of pain erupted daily
As whips spilled blood like flowing lava
Torn bodies littered among broken souls
You have built on my ruins
Yet you say I am no more wealthy than you
I have not owned you
You own your past
You own your name
You own your heritage
Those that built upon my ruins
Are your patron saints
They have built a shrine for you
And offer you provisions as benefactor
So that you pay homage and regard
In return they have guarded your lot
So your future self may build upon what they built
Privilege is the access to that alter
And the power that it has bestowed
So your future generations can continue to succeed
Just for being you