Writers 
I wasn't born with a silver spoon,
I only admired them.
I didn't even have a spoon;
I was fed with bare hands
I wasn't born with a silver spoon,
I only admired them.
I didn't even have a spoon;
I was fed with bare hands.
I wasn't driven around in a car,
I was taught that if I wanted one,
I'd have to look for a job,
work with my own hands,
and earn enough to buy my car.
I started laying my bed
ever since I learnt
how to call Mum.
I learnt that clothes don't
wash themselves,
and plates don't magically
find their way to the sink.
I was brought up in a home
where boys and girls
did the same chores.
Where no one was too important
to sweep the floor,
wash the plates,
or make their own bed.
I learnt that respect
isn't something you demand;
it's something you give
before you expect it back.
I learnt never to bite
the hands that feed me,
and never to forget
the people who helped me grow.
So I'm sorry
if I look ordinary to you.
I wasn't raised to impress the world.
My world feels
extraordinary already.
