A Loud Cry For Justice For the Poor

A huge sound waits bound in ice, the world of the poor has been cold as ice Denied of justice and made to pay a heavy price. A lonely loud voice above the mountain calling out for justice for the poor but can only be heard by the birds of the air. When justice stands still, the supposed saviors become the enslaves with no flavor of justice on their lips, Who then will stand up to defend the poor? When justice stands still, the law makers become peace detractors, creating laws meant not to ensure harmony making the poor to live in agony state. The poor are insecure in need of a cure, Who is willing to take part in their endure? for their hearts are pure like snow but covered in poverty which they cannot avoid like puberty. But their thirsty for justice has never quenched, still holding on to hope like a sailor holding on to a rope in the middle of a storm. Their destiny is unknown like that of a mad person sitting on a thrown waiting for a crown to be made king Or should they swing from tree to tree like a monkey in search of justice between man and itself as being one and having equal rights. For justice is not a crime, for there is still time to make it rhyme with the rhythm of love to justify the world into a better place with a face of justice.