I Worked Hard - With Privilege

In the chorus of life, I've heard a refrain so strong,
"I worked hard," they sing, their pride a song.
But beneath the surface, a truth untold,
Privilege whispers, stories unfold.

"I worked hard for everything I own,"
A declaration made, firmly shown.
Yet privilege's shadow, it casts its light,
On uneven paths, where fortunes take flight.

Not all fields are level, not all starts fair,
Some face obstacles, while others breeze with air.
Acknowledging privilege doesn't diminish toil,
It unveils the layers, the societal coil.

Inherent advantages, woven in time,
Shape destinies, like an intricate rhyme.
From education's doors to job's embrace,
Privilege paves ways, leaving little trace.

Systemic disparities, a complex weave,
In the fabric of success, they interleave.
The race, the class, they play their part,
In shaping narratives, in every heart.

For meritocracy's promise, oft a guise,
As social and racial currents rise.
Numbers speak volumes, stories untold,
Of inherited wealth, as centuries unfold.

So let's pause to listen, to voices unheard,
To grasp the nuances, each spoken word.
"I worked hard," yes, but privilege sees,
The unequal paths, the differing pleas.