First World Problems

What have you lost?
A few hours of sleep,
thinking of the "betrayals"
you faced
and deceptive words sugar-laced.
Tear-soaked pillows
give you company.
You still have a roof above you.
What is left with us
when our cradles
have turned into graveyards,
and our playgrounds into battlefields?

Your gaming consoles keep you happy.
You enjoy sniping enemies
made of 0s and 1s.
Our guns are real.
So are our grenades.
Our enemies are made of flesh and bones.
Not a game, to "respawn in 20 seconds".
What will console us?

Grandpa tried. Papa died
in an assassination that meant his suicide.
Motherland spread across far and wide,
yet we need to hide,
and kill our pride.

A handful of rice
is an asset,
a bowl of it
is a luxury.

A rag is
our jacket,
a shirt intact
is a "dress".

Our battles are real.
We are weak.
We are the meek.
We haven't got what we seek.

You're at a better place
that hasn't seen invasion of space.
Yet you continue to amaze (us)
with the "hardships" you face.

Yes, life is not a bed of red roses.
Ours is ridden with just thorns.