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Poem

Tell me a story of the way things were,
tell me a tale how things are meant to be,
and I'll sing you a song of how things are,
and whisper the lies that are so commonly heard.
I'll rhyme you a riddle of the injustice of it all,
how a child will cry and no one will hear,
pain so immense it just won't heal,
suffering and poverty we see in this world,
and no one will care, no one will see,
that for every tear a river is born,
for every lost hope a dollar is made,
for every fear,
life is taken away,
when all this is taken away,
who wins but the ones who shouldn't,
this world is corrupt and no one will see,
we're killing our youth,
we're making them not believe,
believe in yourself,
because no one else will.

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