He’s a Hispanic waiter,
Just turning 16,
Serving the self-claimed Kings and Queens.
He is dressed in rags covered in grease,
Doing everything they ask,
Without a “thank you”
Or a “please”.


They come in the restaurant
With jewelry better than the Pope.
With each rude comment,
They abolish his hopes,
His dreams,
His every wish.
They don’t know him,
Though they acknowledge they are rich,
He is not.

Five years prior,
Only 11
A heart so pure,
You would think he’s from heaven.
He is an ordinary boy without wealth.
Though oblivious,
That they are affecting his health.
They expect nothing more
From the boy
Than to be a lower than them,
So he is raised to believe,
That being better
Is sin.