Poverty's Plea

This idea for a poem came into my head after one of those donate to the poor commercials.

Right at this second a child has died.

There was no one who mourned, no one who cried.

Their death was of not of a gunshot or a fatal cut,

But rather of the emptiness and neglect in their gut.

This child has died of a disease named starvation,

Like it or not it spreads, country to country and nation to nation.

A child must survive off a single crumb, 

In this day and age doesn't this reality seem dumb?

Children with bodies like twigs and sunk-in faces.

It is not their fault that they are born in these godforsaken places.  

The conditions for these children are far beyond crude,

Day after day, they beg for some food.

These children have not learned how to live or to love,

Without help, their fates will lie with The House Up Above.