The Unfortunate Contrasts in NYC
Hungry…cold…alone
Often we forget such feelings within our bones
Met with condemning glances, she feels as if she is about to be stoned
Eyes wide open, but still shut
Look away to dismiss the lack of even a hut
Endless fun abounding on our trip
Safe from all her cuts and
Slaves to our own selfish guts
This poem is about:
Our world