The Weight of Bread
The Weight of Bread
He wakes before the sun learns how to rise,
Dreams folded neatly, hunger in his eyes.
The world demands its payment every day,
Rent, bills, and bread;there’s never room to stay.
Coins clink like questions in his trembling hand,
Each one already promised, already planned.
School fees, medicines, a flickering light,
He counts his worries every single night.
His hands are rough, the maps of endless toil,
Stained by sweat, by dust, by honest soil.
He builds the homes he’ll never get to own,
Lifts other dreams while carrying his own.
He smiles for children, hides the ache inside,
Swallows pride so his loved ones can survive.
No holidays, no rest, no soft retreat,
Just tired feet on unforgiving streets.
The world calls him “poor,” but does not see
The wealth of courage in his dignity.
For in his silence lives a powerful art,
A rich, unbreakable, human heart.
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