I am your slave

I am your slave.

I work in the streets; I build your houses, buildings, and towers. I pave your roads. I pick up the trash off the side of the street in the morning. I clean your sewage systems. I work in your homes; I watch your children while you are away. I watch your children while you are here. I clean your houses, tidy your beds, pick up after you. I serve your food. I clean your garden, wash your cars. I work in your supermarkets, work in your shops; I come out to serve you while you sit in your car. I bring your what you want, and you don't need to lift a finger. I work in your banks, your ministries, your companies; I serve your tea and coffee in the morning, I clean up after you leave in the evening.

I am far away from home; a stranger in a strange land. I leave my family and friends, wife and children, all to come to you, to serve you, to be your slave. To earn a little, a modest income to send to my family; enough for them to survive, to make it through the day. I do this for my family, yet I do all of this with your best interest at heart. I work long hours, I work hard. I try my best to please you, yet you are never pleased. You shout at me, you punish me, and you expect me to do more work. I work from the early hours of the morning, till the late hours of the evening. If I am lucky, I have a few hours to work a second job; I have to, because the money you pay me is hardly enough. I earn a little, not enough to live a good life, not enough to even live a lousy life, nevertheless, you pay me. But sometimes you don't. Sometimes I work for months, and you don't pay me. And I can't complain. I can't retaliate, I can't object. Yet, I make a living, and whatever I make, I send to my family. I try to survive on inexpensive food, I try to save as much as I can. Not much, but I try.

You look at me, yet you don't look at me. You don't see me; I am not there. You pass me by like I do not exist, you do not care. I am packed with other slaves like me, like sardines in a can, in the back of a truck. Your car stops right behind me; I see you, comfortable in your air conditioned luxury vehicle, while I sweat out in the heat, yet you avoid looking into my eyes. Does it embarress you? Why do you turn away? I am on the side of the road, working in the heat, and you pass by me, drinking your cold beverage. You avoid me. You don't acknowledge me. When you do acknowledge me, its with looks of disgust, you detest me. You say i'm dirty; I work your filthy jobs. You dislike my strong odor; I work in the sun all day for you. You are the one who sends me to do these jobs, then you look at me in disgust from what it has produced. I am the result of your actions. You take me out to a restaurant, to watch and take care of your children while you eat. You make me sit on another table, you give me inferior food. I am not your equal. I am your slave.

I built your society, I made it what it is today. Without me, your children would have no one to take care of them, your buildings would have no one to build them, your mess would have no one to clean it. No one to do the dirty work you despise. The dirty work we take, so you can continue living in your lazy, luxurious existence.

I am your slave.

Yet without me you are nothing.

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