It pains me to see children at my government’s feet.
Screaming and crying they inconsolably weep.
My government’s too busy feeding its fat belly,
Shoving food down in haste with dinner is ready.
But dinner is not always ready for all.
Sometimes breakfast and lunch fall,
On some random day between Monday and Friday.
It pains me to see children walk around in bare feet,
Searching through garbage for treasures to eat.
They hold out their hands and plead with their eyes,
But the government remains oblivious to their silent vies.
Not everyone can afford turned up noses,
But if upturned noses were a dollar a dozen like roses,
Those children would eat three times a day, Monday through Friday.
And never be hungry again.