Keith Drew Poet I do not know?

A Den of Want.

I sat inside a den of want, 
On money they did feed,
I looked around at all the girls,
And my heart was pained to bleed,

Their beauty they did put on sale,
So young then sent to slaughter,
To work like this to so survive,
It could have been my daughter?

I sat inside a den of want 
And cried within my soul,
I wished my heart could so reach out,
And stop their tragic roles,

I knew in heart to no avail,
I could ever change a thing?
So instead of money to their lives,
My ears in offering.

They told me of their families,
Their daughters and their sons,
Of how they saved each note they made,
So their work would then be done.

And each and every one of them,
A heart as yours and mine,
And so themselves did sacrifice,
Not emotion but their time.

And as I listened to each one,
My tears began to flow,
That men could offer money then,
For their bodies then to know?

What is this world we so live in?
That man can pay to so then sin,
To take a woman’s self respect,
So that her kin then not neglect.

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