Crumbs.

The dinner party's over,
the guests are all gone,
that little boys eyes looks at them,
the crumbs,
it still has has the savour,
that aroma,
his eyes just keep looking at them,
the crumbs.

He didn't get the share,
the share of such a large meal,
that wasn't fair,
he would have eaten that meal with a lot of zeal.

Those crumbs,
laying in a corner,
each one has that savour.

His eyes coveting something,
now they only see what's left behind,
that savour lingers within him,
it lingers in his mind,
no one saw those eyes,
the eyes of lust,
my dear, crumbs just aren't enough,
then he asked himself whether he was a crumb,
over the years he had become so numb,
numb because of the poverty,
but then his mind wandered to those crumbs,
those crumbs that caused so much of lust.
Are we really born equal?