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Living a mortal wealthy life,
Never to die in hunger or strife,
What would you know of our grieves,
As we labour for every single meal?
In the depths of earth digging for you,
The precious glittering raw jewel,
That sits now on your delicate finger,
Adorned in gold, dazzling shimmer,
Given to you by your lover in fire
Of passion and ego and sensual desire!
That same stone, my lovely lady!
Once rested unadorned muddy and dreary,
In the depths of far away African lands,
Where I slave only to save my hands,
From being ruthlessly slashed away
By rich men, much like your fiancé!
Oh no! Don't get me wrong Lady,
Who am I to blame your princess-like story,
While I here struggle to keep me alive,
My children lost, my missing wife,
My world covered with earth and sweat,
Digging and digging, yet no rest,
Surrounded by many a slaves like me,
Hopelessly wishing in vain to be free,
Others just gave away any remaining hope,To ever come out of these dark potholes...
If only you were to forsake these diamonds
For love, humanity, another's wounds,
Maybe I'll see hope as well,
But for now I have none to spell!
