Some say,
conflicts lives in poverty's Tommy,
while others say,
poverty is actually the child of conflict.
missiles and bombs shout in the streets,
while guns sings at home,
to songs of politics,
and sounds from canaan loam.
the blood of children paint the streets,
and the hymen of girls disappear,
food becomes that dude that can go down the oesophagus,
which is the only criteria it was asked to present.
he cried and cried for food,
"he will draw attention!" so the water swallowed him from the hands of his mother
sweet sorrowful tears ran down her cheek.
the rest of the family is safe,
but her child she hit against the bucket
just because he was hungry.
the world is a highway,
but we are blind to its right destination,
all we care about is how smooth is the roadway,
and how comfortable is our means of transportation.
politics and cannan's loam,
riches and estates grow,
we will come,see and go,
like the rivers dance,play,cry but yet flow.
Shalom
I am Apexdefather's pen
