Now, I’m beginning to wonder

how many people are left to flounder

and crack, breaking

under the world’s ever strengthening squeeze.


And as I’m sitting, watching, waiting,

Listening to the ever frustrating

Cries for justice,

I realize there’s a need for armor and for plating

For these children flying in the breeze.


So, brothers, sisters, wear your armor,

whether bedazzled like a snake charmer,

Or if it is simply the shoes upon your feet,

Wear it with pride, 

and refuse to be beat,

For with this advice,

you won’t be incomplete.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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