Senses

I can see
the beautiful houses of the rich,
the expensive clothes they wear,
the luxurious cars they drive,
but
I cannot see
those demolished huts of the poor,
those ripped clothes they wear,
those decrepit cycles they ride...

I can hear
the songs playing in the pub,
the hooting in the concert,
but 
I cannot hear
those cries in the slum,
those yelling of the landlord...

I can smell
the aroma of the room freshener,
the fragrance of the perfume,
but
I cannot smell
the stench coming from those slums,
the swelter in their rooms...

I can taste
the international cuisine they can afford,
the sweetness of the tongue-tantalizing dessert,
but
I cannot taste
the food cooked in their kitchen,
the savory in the home-made curry...

I can feel
the texture of the antique furniture,
the comfort they have,
but
I cannot feel
the presence of no furniture,
the unbearable pain in their lives...

however, my sixth sense says that...
my other senses have gone into a state of oblivion...