Suffering in Luxury

So muddy
Was walking in shoes
Complaining, pitying my condition
Did I say my fortunate for
Eyes shift to the slippers
Worn by seven-eight aged boy
Darker than me, and carrying something
My mind starts wandering
For who has nothing on legs
This muddy place is not even worse
More than this! How they suffer
I thank the slippers
It molds my thoughts
Am not guilty for complaining
Cause I had no inspiration
I thank god for shoes
At least, am suffering in luxury.