Fortunate birth...

Sometimes I forget how lucky I am. 

Instead I regret, I criticize man.

I lose sight of the fact,

That I won a genetic lottery. 

Among the few fortunate enough,

To be born in America. 

I forget that my parents came pregnant,

Alone, broke, and hopeful; 

To a new nation; 

To give me the opportunities, 

That they never had.

I often lose sight that, 

My mere presence in this great land,

Is the most envied, 

Of any man,

Despite recessions, 

Moral upheaval, 

And cyclical regressions.

My rights are protected. 

My religion my own. 

My speech never rejected. 

Thanks forefathers, for seeds thrown. 

We've had our history,

Our dark sordid past,

Shackling our brothers, 

Though freedom, at last. 

Yet we've grown from adversity,

And pushed our own course;

Securing base rights of man, 

Within these American shores. 

But sometimes, I forget,

Of my personal debt;

To this great land, 

And its boundless chances; 

To my fellow man,

And his like-minded advances.

Instead I focus on the frustration within,

On my failings and sin,

On the road all men travel, 

And the victories I must win. 

I lose sight that I am not alone;

That I live among the brightest,

In the world's greatest home.

Where wheels are greased,

And connections made;

Where friends work together, 

And everyone gets paid. 

But when I stop and think, 

Of my lucky situation; 

I thanks the stars above, 

For my fortunate maturation.