Struggling, Poverty, Murder, Broken, Oppression.
These words mean nothing to this nation,
Because it is not reality.
It just can’t be, it just couldn’t be.
These kids only want a meal,
And for the wounds inside to heal.
Is this the land of the free?
Or the land of poverty?
“The land of the free?” screams every soul,
Except for those going down the hole.
The one percent stand proud and rich,
While the rest moan, cry, and twitch.
The tall and mighty stand clothed, bright in indigo,
While the small and weak are naked, with nowhere to go.
Not one language can convey,
What these people have to say.
They have no hope or a Superman.
They only do the best they can.
To be homeless is illegal,
Said so if only to appease the people,
Who go home to a piece of meat.
While others are tossed out on the street,
How is this justice? How is this fair?
The beast dressed as gentlemen certainly don’t care.