You ask me now what makes me tick.

Now I shall tell you, brick by brick.

The look you see

When you gaze into the eyes

Of a mother who can't feed her children.

Or the childrens plea

And their sad, sullen sighs,

Their lives forever barren.

Society's lost

At the hopeless ones cost.

Lives forever gray.

Only hope and starvation,

Fame and humiliation,

Will greet them near the end of their day.

What makes me  tick,

You doth dare to ask.

Is it the lack of love?

Society's mask?

The mother who now has no children to love?

The children who will die starving?

Or is it the ones

Who will do nothing but

Pretend this problem will go away?

What makes me tick,

Also makes me sick.

For there are some who will do nothing.

But some can still help,

Because there are those who still feel.

The smallest person can always do something.

This makes me tick,

But it's not the worst.

The worst is not fighting back.

People who don't care,

Who observe the hate.

Who participate in the attack.

So, what will you do today?