BREAKFAST TIME
You go to breakfast, your daily needPick up a paper any news to read?
A mother starves her child is crying
In far off lands, there are people dying
Their hunger ravaged stomachs swell
Condemed a life of living hell
You hear their cries, but not their plea's
Where only death brings sweet release
But its not your problem, you earn a wage
So eat your breakfast, turn the page
Thats more like it a cricket score
Forget the million starving poor
But before you leave just spare a thought
It really is'nt all their fault
So show some pity instead of scorn
They had no choice where they were born.
Poetry by penfold18
Read 755 times
Written on 2005-12-03 at 11:16
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