Plight of a Bread Loaf

A thick paste of flour and water turned into a slice

A plain white surface, with neither arms nor legs or eyes

But I do possess feelings, a fact no one’s aware of

And bearing the situation around has become real tough

Easily available for the rich- unfortunate but true

Consumed completely and properly only by a few

The rest, guzzle some pieces and fling the rest into the bin

And the dirty heap of garbage then forms my kin

Kids from the lower strata regularly visit my new place

They see me and there’s a spark in their eyes, a smile on their face

But by then, I grow stale, mostly completely rotten

My body is taken over by a painful fungal infection

But that’s beyond the point for the innocent toddlers

They pick a slice and munch through without fear

And many fall ill; at times even lose their lives

What they choose to fill their empty stomach causes demise

I curse myself, I curse my very existence

Misused by the rich; poor become the bearers of the loss

Unable to stop this, I cry at my plight; I plead, I want to be heard

Here I am, a loaf of bread, waiting to be valued by mankind!