Prisoners of Birth

In palaces some are born,
Under thatched roofs others,
And some by the sides of roads...

Some are born christian,
Some hindu, some jews , some muslim
and some without a religion..

Fair and white some are born,
Black and brown some are born,
and some without any pigment..

Some are born to the rich 
some are born to the middle rung
and some are born to the paupers...

Yet all of them cry,
all of them cry, when they are born..
Why do they cry ?

Is it because they feel the weight of the shackles,
or is it because they sense their prison ?

Shackles of wealth, color of skin,religion ..
These are the inheritance of every child who is born..
Not, a very happy inheritance I deem.

Yet there are those who break these shackles,
Prisoners who escape,
Those are the ones who are ever truly free
And, the rest..

The rest are just prisoners of birth...