The Poor You Will Not See

The air is heavy today And sits on my chest A crushing reminder of unmitigated loses I will labor to breath in and out While the weight of miseries pushes down In unwelcomed pulses of desperate cries Millions of voices raised in revolt Millions in hunger and strife And only me to hear I want to feel less But if I do not see and hear Then who would know Who would know the desperate struggle Of holding on to hope While trudging toward nothing but hopelessness Who would feel the burn of hunger And the frantic pain of sickness That are drowned out by weak promises of help that never arrives There is no bread There is no hope The sick get sicker The dying get dead The poor stare at me in my nightmares And I stare back, helpless They will still be poor and so will I Dying together under the weight of secrets The untold stories of the people No one wants to see Clawing, ripping, fighting our way through the days Only to fall and weep and burn At night when no one sees The silent scream in the shower So no one can hear The inhuman sound raging from your soul Begging for help For scraps of left overs The mention of our names from your lips The uncomfortable truth Buried under your comfortable lies And shining institutions of greed I see you And you see me And I know that you know You can pretend for a while more You can cast shadows and distractions And still I see you You can put on a show And give your alms And still you see me A silent reminder of your selfishness A glaring rebuke of your holiness A fire burning that will not be put out