I cry over things like no free time
Crying is forbidden to her, a luxury
I haul my book-loaded backpack from school
She hauls much larger loads 12 hours a day with no hope of an education
I sit at home drinking Coke and watching TV
Her water is rationed and she has no knowledge of entertainment
I finish half my lunch and throw the rest away
The half in the trash is a full day’s food for her
At night I curl up in a cozy little bed
Her bed is a 2-by-5 nook with a blanket and a pillow made of salvaged rags
I ask for a new game or clothes and I get it the next day
She asks for a little more food and gets beaten right then and there
I can relax and enjoy life
She has never known and will never know a real childhood
I am a teenage girl
She is a slave to another and to her mind, now and forever