Untitled

Our starving faces,
Mock America.

Bitter are we,
With a shallow taste,
In our twisted mouths.

In the millions,
We barely stand,
Swaying and weak,
Watching the world's food,
With suffering eyes,
Be consumed by the rich obese.


Their rolls of lard,
Could feed our nation,
But instead it coats,
Their sordid bones.

And our mouths water,
And our stomachs roar,
And there is not a soul,
That cares at all.