Call me classy, the classism

For the royalty is like this,
Some used their words like their fists.
Playing advocate,
That our freedom was illiterate,
As if we…
Don’t tell stories when we do.
And when we do,
Our debts taunt us with what is due.
I sit down on the plush throws,
Hoping I too will grow,
Learning that our lives had meaning,
Perhaps a little seasoning,
To the big pot,
Where the emotionally hungry fought.
This heart of mine is tender,
Eyeing big spenders,
With their jewels and dice,
Forging our lives to make nice.
I come out to seek pride,
Only to be shown where to hide,
To make it to paradise.
For the royalty is like this,
Some packed a punch and called it a kiss.

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