is poverty a crime? is the world taking stock of the poor?
I looked and saw the shacks,
some so old they can hardly stand,
all around so dirty, even the child's hand,
an awesome horrible land.
of cruel faith,
hungry eyes, sad faces,
people of all races,
faces that never knew a smile,
trodding mile, after mile,
yet living the same old style.
is this the poor man's sin?
what was his crime some may ask?
that he is given such a burdensome task,
covering them like an ugly mask.
yet what have they done?
aren't they all god's children under the sun.
bodies covered in sores,
happily at their chores.
smelly places filled one's nostrils.
the scene all grim and gloomy,
the sky all cloudy.
who seems to care,
no one ever dares,
to think about poverty,
the deadly tree,
whose fruits are more poverty!!!