I grew up in a place, where there are no mountains, cities, or buildings

Instead, every few nights I encountered killings

Dead bodies in the middle of the road, rotten, ran over

Cars passed by as if no one they've seen, in the breezy night of October

But behind the brutalities, lay a land of courage

Starving beggars, thin-skinned, visible bones, malnourished

Continuing their lives to provide the most minimum income for their families

So I ask everyone, where are our philanthropies?

We judge the lifestyle of having to resort to the last option to survive

Unknowing what tomorrow will bring, or even how to get by

So what if they do or eat things that are not considered natural?

The ignorance of not understanding different cultures doesn't make your beliefs factual

When your country hides you from the brutal reality

We face life in the most extreme conditions, of what you called abnormality

There's only one difference standing between you and I

You stand behind the wall of protection, nourishment, wealth, looking by

Without seeing how your fellow neighbors are living in the most agony

So I ask you, where is your philanthropy?




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