Not Enough

As I lay me down to sleep

I count the things that I can keep

My house, my job, my sanity

Yet still I breathe profanity

My car is old, my clothes are worn

Designer purse is tired and torn

I pray to God.  I beg for riches

While others bleed in muddy ditches

I have my comforts.  I have my voice.

While a woman out there has no choice

My child is healthy, happy, and strong

Somewhere a baby doesn't have long

Yet I claw, and climb and scream for more 

While a family sleeps on a dirty floor

I crave fame, and love and recognition

While a woman is beaten into submission

But I can't help them.  I can't solve them.

I complain about my first world problems

Call it greed.  A grievance.  A sin. 

Or just call me a privileged American.