Shanty Town
The dead of children's eyes burn through the soul,
their hunger tears the heart from its cavity.
Cheeks sunken as skin hangs from the bone,
their out stretched arms crying for deliverance.
You would weep, if not for your crusted sockets,
for moisture is a cherished commodity.
From opulence and prosperity, we are left to scavenge
barren fields for spoiled fruit and wilted leaves.
These few morsels are to be our only subsistence.
This crash has laid waste to our destitution.
Each day emulates the last,
as do the cars rumbling along the rails
past this desolate hovel town.
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