The room was warm br and the lights were bright br fully clothed in designer clad, br I sat at the freshly waxed table br planning to write a new poem. br br Upstairs my two children br slept soundly under orchid br and ylang - ylang scented covers. br whisked into sleep by warm br sweet soothing milk. br br Beside me three empty beer cans- br The spoils of a privileged birthplace br surrounded me. br br In my perfect warm house, br My appeased pleased mind, br was able to feel guilt for the poorer kind..... br br ...As I sat at the table taking time to br perfect the poem. br A starving child had died. br An Aids ridden child had died. br A freezing child had died. br A sex slave child had died. br A mother, father, son and daughter br had been murdered for their home. br br It is easy to feel pity for those who are suffering br when you have everything. br The time, the money, the food the warmth..... br br So there I sat sipping my beer, br smoking my cigarette, br thinking of those that suffer, br and what takeaway dinner I should get. br br Then My lover called from the next room br telling me that 'price dropp T.V' was br selling playstations for $45 br jumping up I left behind my thoughts of pity br and left them to die with another child.